Caribbean Wind
by EvilKath
Summary: Jack Sparrow thought that what he wanted most in this world was to become immortal, but sometimes what you want most is not really what you need most. Sparrabeth JackElizabeth post AWE
1. Prologue

I present you with my new Pirates of the Caribbean story. Ideas came to me a few days ago and they kept driving me crazy, so I decided to get it over with and just write it down. My muse can be a real bitch sometimes. It's set right after AWE.

**Title**: Caribbean Wind**  
Pairing**: Jack/Elizabeth, a little bit of canon!Willabeth  
**Rating**: T for now, it may go up later.  
**Beta**:** _howlong_** (thank you honey, you're the best!)  
**Disclaimer**: Sadly, I don't own them.

"**Caribbean Wind"**

**Prologue**

_And them Caribbean winds still blow  
from Nassau to Mexico  
Fanning the flames in the furnace of desire_

_And them distant ships of liberty  
On them iron waves so bold and free,  
Bringing everything that's near to me nearer to the fire._

"_Caribbean Wind", Bob Dylan._

_xxx_

The Winds were whispering tonight, telling the tales of the Seven Seas to the stars glittering on the dark firmament above. They told the stories of old, speaking of the times when the world was still young, and when the Gods ruled the seas. Lifetimes had passed; the Gods had been replaced by men and now men called themselves the masters of the oceans. But you cannot tame the untamable, and so many had died while trying to harness the strength of the merciless Lady Sea.

There were still heroes though, who, like the ancient Gods' favorites, had learned to respect and praise the majesty of the Oceans. They would not bow before anyone but their magnificent mistress; they would never show fear or weakness, for they would always find their peace in the gentle song of waves crashing against the ship's bow, and this song would follow them anywhere they went. It was the power only they possessed.

But upon the heroes' life there laid a curse of its own. They were born with hearts yearning for the Sea and therefore were bound to live a bittersweet, lonely life, knowing that what they desired most could never be truly theirs.  
Their hearts were cursed with this sweet longing, and in their souls there was no place for different kinds of love, for the Sea was as a jealous woman, who would never agree to share her men with anyone.  
But the Sea was also generous; the heroes were offered great gifts. Their names would never be forgotten and the stories of their life would grow to become legends. Yet the price they had to pay for this was great; they all would never know the sweetness of true love's first kiss, or the feelings which come when you hear the cry of your firstborn son. Not knowing that, they were, however, spared the feeling of regret. That is why all of them loved the Sea and never yearned for more. All that is, except one.

The Winds were telling a new tale tonight, a tale of lust, betrayal and death; a tale of rebirth and forgiveness; a tale of love sacrificed for greater purposes. The gentle breeze from the South brought a delicate rain, as if the Sky itself was crying at the story; as if it were the tears of a young girl waiting ashore for a lover, who would never return to her from the sea.

For the history had changed and there was born a man whose heart was big enough to contain the love for both the Sea and a mortal woman, fierce like Lady Sea herself. The woman bewitched him and then chose another, but she already had the hero's heart in her possession, though she did not know it at the time. So he sailed away, letting her live the life she chose, not aware of the torment of her soul; because with him he took a part of her too.

And it happened that the long forgotten Gods, who observed the matters of living, guiding them to follow their destinies, noticed the despair of the two broken souls and decided to forgive the woman who stole the sailor's heart from the Sea and claimed it as hers, and to forgive the man who dared to give his heart and soul away, challenging Fate.

The Winds blew delicately, filling the worn-out sales of a little dinghy floating somewhere south from the Bahamas. The warm fingers of the breeze traced the face of the man lying on the bottom of the boat, filling his nostrils with exotic scents familiar only to him; scents bearing memories and bringing vivid dreams in which he saw what he feared would haunt him till the end of his days.

The dinghy bowed gently on the waves, and then spun slowly so that it faced the opposite direction. When the gust filled the sails again, the boat began its new quest, taking the sailor back to the Caribbean; back to the place where his heart truly laid; back to the woman who could make him whole again.

The first rays of the Sun enlightened the horizon. The Gods were happy with their doings.

_xxx_

_So, what do you think? Comments and constructive criticism are welcomed. Oh, the next chapters will be longer, I just wanted to start with something different from my usual writing. _


	2. Like a Rolling Stone

Thank you all for your great feedback! You are amazing!

**Disclaimer**: Don't own anything.

**Beta**: Amazing **howlong** (I would be lost without your help ;) )

**Note: **For the sake of this story, Shipwreck Cove is located in the Caribbean Islands. I tried to find official information about its whereabouts and I could not find anything so I chose a location which would be best for my fanfic.

**Chapter 1**

**Like a Rolling Stone**

_When you got nothing,  
You got nothing to lose.  
You're invisible now,  
You got no secrets to conceal._

_How does it feel  
How does it feel  
To be on your own  
With no direction home  
Like a complete unknown  
Like a rolling stone?_

"_Like a Rolling Stone", Bob Dylan_

_xxx_

"Tell me a story, Mother," said a little boy. He couldn't be more than nine, maybe ten years old. He was laying in a much too large bed, his raven-black hair scattered on a pillow and eyes filled with innocent love as he looked at the beautiful woman leaning above him. She seemed to him a supernatural being, and maybe she really was one. The people of her tribe believed that being a princess, she was an incarnation of their goddess of wind, and with that held powers to foresee the future. The boy did not understand why it shouldn't be true; by his reckoning his mother was certainly like a wild element of nature. She could be swift like a breeze when she spoke to him, and a few moments later turn into a hurricane when she argued with his father. But furious or gentle, she was the wind to his father's sails, and they loved each other, being able to look past the other's faults.

The woman smiled, as if she could see her son's thoughts, and when she did, the dark room became suddenly brighter; the light radiating from her eyes could illuminate even the darkest of places. "There were once two nightingales living in a golden cage," she started, and her words were like the softest muslin. "One was old and his feathers were no longer smooth, but his songs were beautiful, and thus he was kept in the cage to entertain his masters. He didn't sing often, but sometimes you could hear him telling his tales, and although you couldn't understand his language, you knew he sung of flying." The voice of the woman was enchanting and when the boy closed his brown eyes he saw the bird, and heard his heartbreaking song.

"And what about the second bird?" he asked, not opening his eyes.

"Oh, the second bird was much younger than the first. He was gorgeous and people liked to look at him, but he did not have the first's bird voice, and he could not sing as beautifully. He never envied his friend though, because he saw that the old nightingale often wept, when he thought no one would see him."

"Why did he weep, mother? Wasn't he happy?"

"The younger bird wanted to know that too, and so one night he asked his friend: 'Why are you sad? You should rejoice, for you have been gifted; your life is safe here and free of all concerns!' But the older bird just smiled sadly and answered 'You were born here, and so I will forgive you. I used to be free and now I'm caged - that's why I weep.' " The mother looked at her son and saw that he was asleep, so she wrapped him tight in blankets. The nights at the sea were cold.

She then went toward the window, and looked out into the pitch-black darkness. A few tears glistened in her sad eyes, and she didn't know whether she was grieving because of her unsettled nature or because of what she kept seeing in her dreams late at night. She knew there was nothing that could be done to change her son's grim fate, and she understood that she probably did not see it all, but even if he was to find joy in the end of his long, tiresome journey, his path would be filled with thorns, and it was breaking her motherly heart.  
Her little boy had been born sharing her aura of tragedy and sadness, although his had a different source. It had come with his father's blood, and she knew that therefore it did not lay in her power to alter his destiny.

The woman opened the window, letting the salty zephyr dry her cheeks. It did little to comfort her distressed soul.

Later, when she had sunk to the ground and fallen asleep by the window, her son finally dared to open his eyes and look at her delicate form bathed in the silver moonlight. He had heard her sobs and his little heart fluttered when he remembered the sound.  
It was then, when he realized his mother would leave. And he had known this, even before she understood it herself.

_xxx_

When your life is all that you have, you try to keep it for as long as possible, because it's the only thing which is truly and undoubtedly yours. That is exactly why there should be no mercy for slavers; a man's life should never be called another man's possession. Even if you lose everything that matters, there is always tomorrow and the day after to live, your time to get even with Miss Fortune.  
To Jack Sparrow those facts were clear as a day. Jack Sparrow knew that what he needed now, when he had lost everything else, was to find a way to become immortal. Jack Sparrow was on the open sea, unable to set a course.

It wasn't that he didn't have a map, or that his compass did not work properly, which it was, by the way, thank you very much. No, he knew exactly where he wanted to go and yet he could not make himself unfurl the canvas.

The pirate had woken up sometime around midday, his head throbbing from the much too large amount of rum he had drunk the night before, to find himself drifting miles away from the place he had been supposed to be.  
Jack had no idea what had happened and preferred not to ponder on the unwelcome nature and cause of said side trip. He had lived in this world long enough to know that usually things did not happen without a reason, and if his dinghy had decided to suddenly change its course, it meant he was probably in deep troubles.

That is why he was at the moment lost in thoughts. Regrettably, it was not really the best of things, considering that every time he tried to focus, one face inevitably appeared before his eyes. He cursed the sun for bringing him hallucinations, he cursed the rum for making him soft, he even cursed the wind for filling the air with her scents. It was all hopeless.

Jack opened his compass and glared at the needle as it settled slowly pointing to the place which with all probability was the location of the Fountain of Youth. Yes, this was what he wanted; this was the most important thing in the world; this would give him an eternity to live, drink, and, hopefully, not think. But then why did he feel like he was sailing toward his death instead of life?

He closed his eyes and stared at her memory; standing right before him; so beautiful, so ideal, so bloody ready to kill him through one kiss. He sometimes thought she really had killed him that day and had not managed to bring him back from the Locker. What was the difference anyway? He had just exchanged one torment for another, maybe even greater. And it seemed that, apparently, what he wanted most in this world was to make sure his anguish would last forever.

In the Locker seconds lasted ages and it took ages no more than one quick moment to pass; wasn't he, in fact, sentencing himself to a more cruel fate? For if he drank from the Fountain, he would have to live every single minute of his eternal life, every god damn second. Suddenly an eternity in the Locker seemed much more appealing.

Jack sighed and again looked at his compass. It was now pointing in the exact direction chosen by his dinghy's bow, at the Caribbean and Shipwreck Cove.

"So that's where she is, eh?" he asked his boat, and waited for a few seconds as if he was really expecting an answer. "You think I should go there, don't ya? And what next I wonder, offer 'er the pleasures of endless existence?"

He would lie if he said he hadn't thought about it before. It was obvious she would want to have more than just a few meetings with her beloved William, and the Fountain could ensure them an endless number of their one days ashore. But at the time he just couldn't make himself go and once again offer the merry couple a helping hand. Hell, maybe he was a good man, but everything had its limits.

He put his head into his hands, for once happy that he was completely alone, with no one around to see the legendary Captain Jack Sparrow stripped of all his fame and glory. It was pathetic really, but fighting it was like fighting the tide. It always came back and little by little stole the ground from underneath your feet, burying you deeper and deeper in the sand, so that in the end you couldn't do as much as move your toes.

If he went back, he would have to endure meeting his father again, he would have to postpone his quest for eternity and he would have to face seeing _her_. He did not know if he had it in him to bear it again.

And yet something unnameable was pulling him back, back  _home_. Jack didn't know why that word came to his mind. He was born there, yes, but he had never considered that place his home. His home was the Pearl, his home was the Ocean, his home was…  
Suddenly he felt weary, longing for a place where he could just rest, longing for a place where someone would wait for him, after his yet another adventure. The mere thought both scared and soothed him. The tide had once again taken a few grains of sand before retreating to the Sea.

Jack gently patted his little boat. "Well, I reckon we will have to change our plans, m'dear," he said, resigned. "I  ah, I think I should ensure that everything is fine back there, after all, we both know how often she gets in troubles, and we wouldn't want that now, would we? Not with the Ferryman as 'er _husband_," he added somewhat bitterly, unfurling the canvas. To his surprise a strong gust of air immediately filled the sails and pushed the dinghy into the right direction.

He smirked, once again feeling the faint aroma of lilies and roses in the air. "I'm coming, I'm coming," he reassured no one in particular and then did the only thing which seemed appropriate to the occasion.

"_We're rascals, scoundrels, villains, and knaves,  
Drink up, me 'earties, yo ho.  
We're devils and black sheep, and really bad eggs,  
Drink up, me 'earties, yo ho."_

He sung, and although the song did not sound even half as cheerful as it should, his clear voice flew toward the distant islands, accompanied by the seagulls' cries. It seemed he was coming home, whatever that meant.

_xxx_

Thank you for reading. As always, comments and suggestions are appreciated.

The story about the birds was based on Ignacy Krasicki's poem "Caged Birds".


	3. Not Dark Yet

**A/N: **A huge thank you to those who take their time to review my story. It always warms my poor heart when I see my work is appreciated. However, I would also like to thank people who just read my story and check for updates - this means a lot to me as well.

**A/N2**: Tonight I finished reading Harry Potter. I haven't cried this much since AWE came out (but no, I did not really weep for Harry P. but because of many different things - more in my lj). I don't want to spoil anything, but to all of my friends who did not believe in my theory about Severus S.- **I TOLD YOU SO!!!**

**Disclaimer: **I only own my plot. But it's not worth a penny; we all know you're here just for Captain Jack ;) The characters belong to Disney. The songs belong to Bob D. I still belong to myself. My heart belongs to Jack.

**Beta: **as always, amazing **howlong**

**Chapter 2**

**Not Dark Yet.**

_Shadows are falling and I've been here all day  
It's too hot to sleep time is running away  
Feel like my soul has turned into steel  
I've still got the scars that the sun didn't heal  
There's not even room enough to be anywhere  
It's not dark yet, but it's getting there  
Well my sense of humanity has gone down the drain  
Behind every beautiful thing there's been some kind of pain  
...  
I've followed the river and I got to the sea  
I've been down on the bottom of a world full of lies  
I ain't looking for nothing in anyone's eyes  
Sometimes my burden seems more than I can bear  
It's not dark yet, but it's getting there_

_I was born here and I'll die here against my will  
I know it looks like I'm moving, but I'm standing still  
Every nerve in my body is so vacant and numb  
I can't even remember what it was I came here to get away from  
Don't even hear a murmur of a prayer  
It's not dark yet, but it's getting there._

"_Not Dark Yet" Bob Dylan_

_xxx_

"Can you see the line where the sea meets the sky?" a man asked his son. They were standing on a cliff, the most advanced into the sea strap of land of the whole island. The wind toyed with their hair, and for a moment the only sound was made by the countless trinkets braided into the man's hair.

The boy focused on the spot pointed at by his father's hand, and then looked back at him, with unhidden awe and admiration written on his features. "I can," he answered finally. "What lies there?"

"Dreams, boy... Look around," he said, and his son did as commanded. "See? Watch carefully - the horizon delimits your domain."

"But Father, if I move, the horizon will move with me," the boy protested. "I will never reach it; the territory it bounds is limitless. It makes no sense at all," he grumbled, looking at his father questioningly.

"No, lad," the man flashed him a golden grin. "It makes all the sense in the world."

_xxx_

There are places which cannot be forgotten. No matter how much you try to erase the vivid image from your mind, it always comes back, sooner or later appearing in your thoughts or dreams. For Jack one of such places was definitely Shipwreck Island, a mute witness to some of the worst events that had ever happened to him, the background of many of his nightmares. Of course after the recent events, he was forced to look at it all from an entirely different perspective and reevaluate the meaning of the word "nightmare". You are bound to change your opinion on some crucial matters after having your body torn apart by razor-sharp teeth of a gargantuan octopus. Compared to that, even the most unfortunate experiences from your life seem like a tea-party at most.

With every mile Jack Sparrow felt more confident about his decision and more eager to reach his destination. Something was pulling him toward the Cove, and he could not get rid of the nagging feeling that he might arrive too late._ 'Too late for what, exactly?'. _He had no answer to that, yet it did not lessen the anxiety rising slowly in his chest.

But he was sailing with full-speed and there was nothing more he could do to be any faster. In fact, he had reduced the supplies to a minimum (all right, he had been forced to eat them all, because he obviously had not taken enough), and now, almost starving, he was just hoping he would get to the Cove before he would pass out from exhaustion. That would certainly be a most unfortunate occurrence.

So when he finally saw the green outline of the island, he sighed with relief. He would not admit it, but there were moments when he actually had doubted he would succeed. When he had decided to return, he had chosen the straightest course possible, therefore steering clear of most of the islands. Many would call him insane for trying to cross the Caribbean Sea in a badly equipped dinghy, almost without food and water, sailing miles from the nearest islands, but he had never implied he was sane in the first place.

Jack would have recognized these shores anywhere. If someone decided to move this island, let's say, to the Arctic Ocean, he would identify it the second he would see it. After all, he had spent here his entire childhood, taking first sailing trips on these exact waters, in a boat not too different from the dinghy he was occupying now; he was familiar with every tree, every cave, every bloody rock of the Shipwreck Island. He also knew how to sail to the port without being noticed by the guards, and he intended to use this valuable knowledge now. Somehow, he preferred his arrival to be not too loudly announced in the city. For once, he really did owe a lot of money there and, secondly, there is nothing better than a pleasant surprise, is there?

With this in mind, he steered toward the North-Eastern side of the Island, for, as he remembered, there was an almost unnoticeable, to unexpecting eyes, cave there, which led to the heart of the Island, straight to the city. Only few would be able to sail through the ominous sharp rocks and deceitful drifts of the secret passage, but he was Captain Jack Sparrow, and if there were things he was good at, one of them was definitely sailing.

His little dinghy floated into the tunnel, and, to Jack's surprise, almost the second he disappeared in the darkness, the mast broke with a loud crack. "Oh" he said, clearly astonished. "I guess the water level must have risen up since I was a child. Well, never mind." Jack took the oars, put them into the water, and begun rowing, slowly making his way through the dark passage.

He had done this so many times before, he could easily do it blindfolded, which was a good thing, considering he had forgotten that use of a lamp was always advisable during crossing the tunnel.

After almost an hour ('_I would swear it took me no more than fifteen minutes when I was a lad'_) Jack saw light at the end of the cave and happily steered in that direction. Finally his dinghy appeared in the opening and once again he could breathe the fresh air of the Cove.

Jack took in the beauty of the architecturally impossible construction that grew before his eyes. He did not know how many shipwrecks summed up to the whole city but, he knew that every year, well really with every _storm_ the fortress stretched its arms even wider, enlarged by yet another ship. He would not want his Pearl to end up as a part of this strange cemetery, but nevertheless the sight was impressive.

Slowly, he rowed toward the port, knowing that despite his best efforts, his deprived of a mast boat would draw attention of at least some of the city's inhabitants. He considered using his, so to speak, back door to the fortress, but then thought better of it, deciding it was more reasonable and decidedly _safer_ to give his visit at least appearances of formality.

The boat hit the shore with a gentle thud, but no one came to welcome the new guest, and so Jack looked around cautiously. The silence was unnerving; where was everyone? He headed to the main entrance to the city, when he saw a high figure walking toward him. Just like this island, he would recognize the dark shape anywhere in the world - Teague Sparrow, one of the most notorious pirates alive, and, unfortunately, his father, was obviously coming to meet his son. Jack prepared himself to greet the man with a sarcastic comment and a smirk on his lips, when his eyes met Teague's, and he changed his mind instantly. Something was wrong. Something was _terribly_ wrong.

"You're here," Teague stated, matter-of-factly. "I'd hoped... but I didn't think you would get my message that quickly."

"What message?" Jack asked cautiously, feeling a lump of fear rising slowly in his throat.

"You don't know then?" his father stared at Jack questioningly. " I thought... I thought that's why you came."

"Bloody hell, stop talking in riddles! What are you talking about?" Jack fought to remain calm, although he had a sickening suspicion he knew exactly what Teague meant.

"Elizabeth... Turner. I'm afraid she's dying. I'm sorry, son."

"What happened? Is she hurt?" For a second Jack once again was just a little boy, seeking council with his father, but the feeling passed almost as quickly as it appeared.

"Our physicians claim there is nothing wrong with her body, lad, it's just her mind that gave up," answered Teague calmly. "I found her on that island her husband had left her on only a week before. I reckoned I would see how our King was doing and invite her to live among us. What I found... what I found...," his voice trailed off a bit, but then he cleared his throat and continued. "The girl was all covered in dirt and bruises; it was horrible. Did not recognize me one bit. She was staring at the horizon, repeatedly repeating 'I'm keeping a weather eye on the horizon.' Whatever bloody hell that meant to her anyway." Teague observed how his son's face kept changing, from guilty and worried to angry; at last his expression became completely blank. "I took her with me, hoping she would come back to us. I sent you a letter immediately. It's been four weeks now, but the girl remained in her own world, barely eating, not noticing people around her. She is fading before our eyes and we can do naught about it."

Jack's fists clenched and unclenched unconsciously all through his father's story._ 'It's my fault. I should've stayed with her. I should've taken her with me on the Pearl.' _"Where is she?" he asked finally, his voice neutral, guarded, and face expressionless.

Teague sighed, knowing that his son fought really hard to keep his composure, and did it if only to not let his father witness a moment of his weakness. "She is in your old room, Jackie," he said softly. "But... please, don't keep your hopes too high. I have every reason to believe this cause is lost."

"I will decide on that, Teague," Jack answered coldly, and with that went past his father, mounting the stairs leading to the fortress. He could feel the blood pounding in his ears, as he was getting nearer to the place which had once been his home. When at last he reached the door and placed his hand on the door knob he hesitated, suddenly afraid of what sight would meet him once he opened the door. He took a deep breath and turned the knob.

_xxx_

Like it? Hate it? Are they in character? Should I quit pretending I'm a writer and just go find a job at Tesco? ;) Just tell me I don't bite (unless you want me to).


	4. Death Is Not The End

**A/N**: Thank you all for the reviews, they really make my day so if you think this story is any good, leave a few words for me ;)

Anyway, sorry for the delay with this chapter, but my last few days were really hectic. I was at a **The Rolling Stones** concert which took place about 400km from the place I live. It was awesome… the word "great" doesn't even begin to describe it.

And of course my computer decided to not save my documents so I had to write again almost half of this chapter. Damn technology.

**Disclaimer**: Don't own anything below.

**Beta: howlong**! (Big hugs for you)

**Chapter 3  
**

** Death Is Not The End**

_When you're sad and when you're lonely and you haven't got a friend__  
__Just remember that death is not the end__  
__And all that you've held sacred, falls down and does not mend__  
__Just remember that death is not the end, not the end, not the end__  
__Just remember that death is not the end_

_When you're standing at the crossroads that you cannot comprehend__  
__Just remember that death is not the end__  
__And all your dreams have vanished and you don't know what's up the bend__  
__Just remember that death is not the end, not the end, not the end__  
__Just remember that death is not the end_

_When the storm clouds gather 'round you, and heavy rains descend__  
__Just remember that death is not the end__  
__And there's no one there to comfort you, with a helpin' hand to lend__  
__Just remember that death is not the end, not the end, not the end__  
__Just remember that death is not the end_

_Oh, the tree of life is growing__  
__Where the spirit never dies__  
__And the bright light of salvation shines__  
__In dark and empty skies_

_"Death is not the end", Bob Dylan_

_x__xx_

The door opened soundlessly and Jack slipped into his old room, somehow afraid to make a louder noise. He looked around and noticed that everything was just like he remembered it, every picture, every piece of furniture was in its old place. Jack realized that the bloody place seemed almost a sanctuary, a tomb more like, and a cold chill went down his spine. He had the sudden impression he had been gone not twenty years but twenty days at most; that he was again sixteen, the world wide open before him, ready to be conquered. But that was the past and it had been long gone for him, he now had left only his present and future, and had to make the most of them, make sure he would not miss a day.

He wandered around the room, lost in memories of the time when he had been careless and free, and couldn't help but notice that there wasn't even dust anywhere, as it should. He started wondering why his father had not thrown away his belongings the minute Jack had left the Cove after their infamous quarrel, and the only answer which came to his mind was almost too peculiar to acknowledge it. Maybe, despite everything he had done to earn his father's hatred, he was not such an unwelcome guest after all. He was not sure how he felt about this sudden realization.  
And so finally Jack's eyes rested on his old, four-poster bed standing in he far corner of the room, where he had placed it himself even though Teague kept moving it almost every night, saying it was not save for him to sleep so close to the window, when so many people desired to kill or kidnap his son, but it looked that Teague did not move the bed after Jack had left either, maybe realizing there was no point anymore.  
He remembered how it had felt to wake up in this place, the sun warming his face, fresh air clearing his mind, but then he saw the figure outlined under the thin sheets and all the good thoughts were instantly erased from his mind. It was Elizabeth, lying with her back turned to him; she had not even stirred when he had entered and seemed to ignore or be not aware of his presence at all. He could not be sure whether she was asleep or not but decided to act as if he was just visiting an old friend he had not seen for a while, hoping that maybe he would once again irritate her enough to force the life back into her. It had worked before.

"Well, well, well, bugger me if it isn't Lizzie Swann sleeping here in my bed! My father was right when he said I was a bloody bastard who was born under a lucky star, a silver spoon in my mouth an all that" he started loudly, searching for some reaction, but to no avail. " I thought I would request an audience from my King, as it were, so here I am, at your service and command. Time to wake up, darling!" a smile on his lips was not reaching his eyes and the feigned cheerfulness in his voice was making him sick.

But through Jack's entire speech Elizabeth did not move, and he sighed, sitting on the bed. He placed one hand on her arm and leaned forwards to look at her face. She was staring at something beyond the window, maybe placed somewhere even beyond this world. Her eyes were open but unseeing and glassy; they did not hold the spark he remembered from their last encounters.

"You can't be doing this to yourself, I won't just sit and watch how you kill yourself," he said, his voice harder, a hidden threat between the words, but she neither seemed to hear nor care. Finally he lowered his lips to her ear and with one hand brushed her hair away, the intoxicating scent of wild flowers was still there, although somewhat fainter than before.

"Lizzie, please," he begged at last softly, but she remained distant as she had been since he had first appeared in the bedroom, and for the first time he started doubting he would ever hear her laugh again.

_xxx_

The next few days passed in the same steady rhythm. Jack did not leave Elizabeth's bedside for more than a few moments, agreeing to go out only when some woman came to change Lizzie's clothes or clean her. Of course, at first he tried to object: he could do this all by himself, it's not like he had never seen a woman without her undergarments; unfortunately his father's old friend had an entirely different opinion in that matter and he would be a fool if he tried fighting an angry woman. But although after their disagreement she kept throwing him funny looks, probably expecting him to take advantage of the unconscious girl the moment she would leave the room, Marta, for that was her name, must have seen something in his eyes which stopped her from later comments and in the end the only looks he received from her were the ones of pity.  
But he ignored it all, taking care of Elizabeth the best way he could, forcing little portions of food and drink into the resisting mouth and just keeping her company, filling the spaces between the meals with all the stories and jokes he could think of.

At first he told her the tales his mother had told him when he was a little boy, but they soon run out, as he could not recall many of them. So then he had to move to his own adventures, yet for the first time in his life offering Elizabeth the whole truth. He told her of his life- how he had left the Cove when was barely 17, how he had tried to find his mother and somewhere along the way became an honest merchant working for the EITC. He had tried to cut off from everything that had reminded him of his father and his life, subconsciously knowing that it would hurt Teague most. He told her how he had met a young man who had become his friend, but who had later betrayed him and branded him a pirate, and how he could smell his own flesh burning under the hellishly hot metal that would leave a scar not only on his arm, but also on his soul, marking it forever. His voice was close to whisper, when he reached the part of the tale in which he had to tell about how it had hurt even more when he had been forced to observe his beloved ship vanishing in the merciless depths. "_Friends_ and _trust_…," the words rolled of his tongue, filled with venom running through his veins. "Never again did I make the same mistake… well _almost_ never," his voice faltered a tiniest bit when for a second he got lost in his own ponderings.

Finally, he told her how sometimes during the sleepless nights he could still hear the cries of the men, women and children who had been aboard when the Wench had been going down. He said it had been the only moment in his life when he had really prayed for death, but his thoughts had brought only Davy Jones, who was maybe worse even that the Devil himself. The cruel Captain had offered a deal which Jack had accepted; "My soul for my crew and the slaves; ninety nine people, and I even managed to throw my ship into the bargain," he said proudly. "Although," Jack added after a few seconds, "I'll be damned if my soul would be worth more than two now."

And so Jack told Elizabeth everything that came to his mind, but she was still oblivious to his presence and dark thoughts began creeping into the corners of his mind. He decided it was the time to get some fresh air and maybe think of new ways of helping the girl, for the hope hadn't abandoned him just yet.

_xxx_

His legs carried him through the entire city, and once again he felt as if he had gone back in time. Nothing had changed here during the last twenty years; except there were maybe more inhabitants now, for constantly more and more outlaws kept settling down with their families, finding peace and shelter under the safe wings of the Shipwreck Island.

The war had been over even before it had really begun, but in the air Jack could feel that the pirates knew their time had come and only in a place like the Cove could they be protected. Living under the blade of inescapable destiny, they tried to find joy in everyday life, knowing that soon they would become nothing more than a story, a myth really. Jack understood this better with every year- hence his thirst for Aqua de Vida.

Those who lived here, however, did not seek the Fountain of Youth; in the world that too often offered only misery and pain for people who rebelled against succumbing to the power of others and who agreed only to obey and respect their Captain, the pirates decided to pass their legacy to the next generation, that would never forget or doubt their existence. Jack realized it when it occurred to him how many children were running around, sometimes throwing incredulous looks in his direction, probably recognizing the famous Captain Jack Sparrow from their bedtime stories. In those children people of the Cove found their immortality, dealing with the inevitable passing on.

Jack did not even realize when he had left the city, directing his steps towards the hills, until, walking down a steep cliff, he reached one of the most beautiful bays of the Shipwreck Island. Suddenly, he found himself facing the ocean, standing on the verge of a breathtaking beach crammed with children. Unconsciously, his feet had brought him to the place in which he had used to spend hours, just playing with other lads. Obviously parents still let their children spend time in this place. Because the shallows were extensive, there was no risk of drowning, and the older kids looked out for the youngest, a truly idyllic picture.

As he was admiring the view, he felt something tugging at his breeches so he looked down, only to meet a pair of the bluest sea colored eyes attached to a nine or ten year old girl. She was staring at him in such way he shifted uncomfortably. "Can I help you, young lass?" he asked, taking in her fair as the Caribbean sand hair when she continued to glare at him.  
Then she stretched her arms up and he understood the mute command. He did what she told, not really knowing why, but before he could ponder on that thought more, she was already in his arms, and for a second he lost his breath when a sudden wave of emotions overcame him completely. He started wondering what it would be like to lead a normal life, have a daughter who would hug him so trustingly and innocently as this little girl. Surprised by his own reaction he cast away the uninvited thoughts, noting in mind to deal with it later (if ever), focusing his attention on the little creature pressed against his chest.

"Let's go to the stone," she ordered, and his feet obeyed instantly. He knew exactly which stone she was talking about; there was this rock on the edge of the beach, which had often been used as a fortress in a game called Defending the Cove when he was about her age. He imagined it probably hadn't changed, especially when the threat of an attack was much more serious these days; even those children must have felt how unstable their fate was.

When he reached the rock, firstly he placed the girl on the top, making sure she was sitting safely, and then climbed up himself. He looked at the girl questioningly, waiting for her to tell him what it was that she wanted from him. But again she only stared, and it struck him that her eyes were much too old for her age, bearing a wisdom that no ten year old girl could possibly posses. But the moment that thought formed in his mind she spoke.

"Don't be sad," she said, and then, to his complete and utter surprise, she started singing.

In the tune he recognized a particular song he had used to like when he was a boy, his mother had taught him the words, and he had sometimes chanted with her, but he had never sung it again after she had left, afraid that hearing it again would only bring back painful memories.  
However, the girl's soft and high voice enchanted him, bringing the peace and tranquility he yearned to find all along, although he had not known it until then.

The years had passed but the tale of uncharted lands and distant shores still moved some strings of his worn-out soul, revealing this inexperienced, much too trusting lad he had used to be decades ago. Yet it wasn't until then when he realized that he had always misinterpreted the lyrics, for this song told not really about adventures, but of unwanted love, cross-stared lovers parted by fate, but who were reunited in the end, only to meet death together, drowning in the sea.

When the song ceased, Jack felt a lump in his throat and cursed himself for being emotional. Why did people think such stories were romantic anyway? The boy and the girl acted like fools, if anyone asked him, only an insane person would drown willingly. Jack shook his head, fighting to clear his mind, but then suddenly felt his young companion moving, and before he could react she was on his lap, her head near his ear. "Sing to her," she said.

His mind was still trying to comprehend what was happening, when she was already jumping from the rock. He almost shut his eyes closed, expecting to hear her cries, but no such thing happened, and soon he could see her running across the beach, the sun glimmering in her hair, her joyful laugh reaching his ears. Jack slid down the rock, and started going after the girl, hoping she would explain what exactly she had meant, but when he looked around he could no longer see her. His eyes searched the group of children, but she was not among them, then he looked towards the bay, but the turquoise waters were undisturbed - the only living creature there was a lonesome seagull, circling low over the sparkling sea.  
Jack once again looked around him, and then turned to go back to the Cove. As he was walking towards the city, he could swear he heard the girl's laugh echoing among the rocks.

_xxx_

"I met a girl today," he said. "Don't worry, she's no more than nine, definitely and ultimately not a threat to you," he laughed. "She reminded me of you though. Kill me again, but I can't find the reason why…" Jack thought for a second. "She did not look like you for sure, her hair was much fairer, and while your eyes have the rich color of the best rum, hers were blue as the sky that day when bloody Barbossa marooned us on that island," a shadow of a smile appeared on Jack's lips. "But she had your fire, love, and she'll most probably be the death of the idiot who dares to lose his heart for her," he chuckled, not really expecting a reaction from the woman lying on the bed next to him. "But she was a marvelous little creature, who decided to lift my spirits with a song. I would prefer rum, but beggars can't be choosers, can they, love? However, I think it helped in a way, and… I believe that, as strange as it may sound, she wished you to hear it… My mum used to sing it to me when I was a boy, but forgive me m'lady for what you're about to hear, I may be a man of many talents but singing is not really one of them."

He closed his eyes for a second, trying to recall the long forgotten lyrics, and then begun singing softly, yet as the verses went by, the timeless song was becoming more than just the words or the tune; Jack's voice held the promises of adventures, but also the threat of the never-ending longing for freedom, the tragedy of his fate that kept pulling him in so many different directions. He sung of the unharnessed current that was often too strong to let him stay in one place, and of his soul's imprisonment, a result of his own doings. It wasn't a song anymore, for it became more of a confession, when he put into his voice all that he could not, _would_ not express with words.

When the final tunes died out, Jack felt her fingers move faintly in his palm and his heart skipped a beat, eyes flew wide open. "Lizzie," he said, but she didn't stir again. He almost convinced himself it had just been his mind playing tricks on him and was about to take his hand from hers, when she enclosed her fingers around his wrist, not letting him go. For a moment he did not dare to move, his breath caught up in his throat, but when she did not let go of him, he found the courage to take her into his arms and place her on his lap. He felt a few lonesome tears running down his cheeks, and it scared him how much he really cared, how terrified he was that she would never return to the world of living. "Come back to me," he whispered into her ear. And then he felt moisture on his chest, where her face was pressed against him; she was crying, silent sobs shaking her body. He ran his fingers through her hair, knowing it was good that she cried, knowing it would finally console her mind.

"You came back," her voice was so weak, he hardly heard her, and he wondered whether she was with him, or if she was just seeing another scene from another time. He wondered if it was him she saw at all. But then her arms were encircling his waist and he understood that it was not important, for there was still hope, even if her embrace was in truth reserved for another. "Shh, Lizzie, it will be alright," he shifted to place her back on her bed, but when he begun to pull back, she caught his hand again. "Don't leave, Jack" she whispered hoarsely and he obeyed, because how he could not, hearing his own bloody name coming from her dried lips, knowing it was him she wanted to find comfort in.

He kicked off his boots and placed himself behind her, pulling her close into his embrace, trying to offer her his warmth and all the life he had left in him. They fell asleep together, and the distant seagulls' cry was their lullaby.

_xxx_

So… what do you think? I'm waiting for your reviews.


	5. Every Grain of Sand

**A/N:** Thank you for your reviews! They really made my day. **Ventoux **asked me about the girl we met in the last chapter. Who was she? Was she a spirit living in the Cove? Was she sent by Jack's mother? Did she simply disappear? Jack does not know who she was and I think that, for now, I'll leave it this way. I like to think Jack is not as alone in the world as he believes; he's got his spiritual guides, who show him the way in the hour of despair. The girl told him what to do, although he had the answer in himself all the time. Maybe she will return later when he needs her; maybe she is just a normal kid living in the Cove... who knows.

I would also like to thank **djarum99**, **Suzanne** and **Amanda Michelle** for their reviews. It's great to see that even people who are not members of this site read my stories.

**Beta**: My favorite **howlong** (many tongue!Johnnies for you!)

**Disclaimer**: Of course I own POTC! You see, Will ran off with his gay crew man from the FD and they now reside somewhere in Australia (they own a sheep farm). Elizabeth found out about it and got a divorce (courtesy of Barbossa); she now lives on the Black Pearl with Jack Sparrow. The Captain. They spend their free time having sex, and having sex. Sometimes they also have sex. Barbossa likes to watch them through a key hole. I told you I totally own this series.

**Chapter 4**

**Every Grain of Sand**

_In the time of my confession, in the hour of my deepest need  
When the pool of tears beneath my feet flood every newborn seed  
There's a dyin' voice within me reaching out somewhere,  
Toiling in the danger and in the morals of despair.  
_

_I gaze into the doorway of temptation's angry flame  
And every time I pass that way I always hear my name.  
Then onward in my journey I come to understand  
That every hair is numbered like every grain of sand._

_I have gone from rags to riches in the sorrow of the night  
In the violence of a summer's dream, in the chill of a wintry light,  
In the bitter dance of loneliness fading into space,  
In the broken mirror of innocence on each forgotten face._

_I hear the ancient footsteps like the motion of the sea  
Sometimes I turn, there's someone there, other times it's only me.  
I am hanging in the balance of the reality of man_

_Like every sparrow falling, like every grain of sand._

"_Every Grain of Sand", Bob Dylan_

_xxx_

It was hot. It was very hot, and something pointy was trying to make a hole in his stomach. Jack opened one eye trying to examine the highly uncomfortable situation, and find a proper solution to this improper position. First and foremost - the pointy thing - ah, of course, the first lesson a man should learn was to never go to sleep with a loaded pistol strapped to his belt. Sometimes it was also the last lesson, if not learned properly and by heart. Thankfully his guts were not spilled on the clean sheets. He maneuvered the pistol from under him and then began to try and locate the source of sudden hotness. The sun - of course, well in his memories waking up with the first rays of sun was infinitely more pleasurable than this, he had to admit. If he was ever to sleep here again, he would make damn sure the curtains were drawn closed.

And yet something was still not right. He felt... he felt as if he was being watched, he turned around and his eyes fell on two feet resting on the bed just a few inches from his nose. A most peculiar sight. His eyes wandered up the long and almost completely bare legs, which unfortunately finally vanished under a blanket. He ignored the unnecessary cover and moved his stare up, only to meet a pair of hazel eyes smiling at him.

"Like what you see, love?" Jack growled and Elizabeth rolled her eyes in response.

"Thank you Jack," she said after a second. "You could have left me there... where I was, but instead you came back to, once again, play my knight in shining armor," there was a soft smile on her lips, and his throat went dry.

"You'd better don't tell this to anyone or you'll completely ruin me reputation," he replied. "You damn well know I would never leave a damsel in distress, that's just me bloody nature, to help the helpless, etcetera, etcetera," he shrugged his shoulders. "And I've already been to the place where you spent your last weeks. Not a garden party, it isn't. No worse place to be than your own mind, I'd say."

"You're a wise man, Jack," she said, suddenly growing serious.

"No, I've just been here and there, that's all."

Elizabeth considered his words for a few moments and then stared into the distance thoughtfully. "I think I just tried to run away, but there was nowhere to run away to... How can you hide from yourself?" She laughed darkly. "Does this make me an awful person? That I yearned to forget? I never wanted to give up."

"Lizzie, a stronger man would have curled up on that island and died. It's in human nature to fall apart, but you managed to put yourself back together. A caring soul and mind have to respond to such events like the ones you had to encounter," Jack answered softly.

"It did not happen to you."

"My mind has been lost long before this all happened to us, and me soul... well it's far from being caring or gentle," there was no treachery nor teasing in his reply, she could tell that he believed in his words wholeheartedly, and she felt a sudden wave of coldness overcoming her body, when she noticed the unusual darkness in his eyes and heard the hollowness in his tone.

"Jack -," she began softly but he did not let her finish.

"You were left all alone, had to watch people you love, die before your eyes. Grieving does not mean you're any weaker than me. I was stronger, simply because the only thing I've ever cared about was my own life."

"And I took it from you," Elizabeth looked down at her hands.

"You did not _take_ it from me. I was stupid enough to make that deal with Davy Jones and simply paid the price for my idiocy. Maybe if the compass...," his voice trailed off, as he considered something for a second. "But it doesn't matter anymore, not now when I finally have me heading which will hopefully get me to the thing I want most."

"That is...?"

"Ah... that we will discuss after a proper breakfast, young lady," he answered rising up from the bed.

"I'm not hungry," she complained.

"I'm afraid that's for me to decide."

Elizabeth stood up with a sigh, but before she made the first step, she felt dizzy and had to grab hold of the chair for support.

"Are you alright?" Jack asked alarmed.

"Yes... I believe you were right about that breakfast after all."

"Captain Jack Sparrow," he answered with a grin. "Come now, then, get back to the bed and let your Jack bring you something to eat. I really am your Captain in Shining Armor, am I not?"

Elizabeth laughed. "Thank you kindly, but I'd prefer to go to the kitchen with you. The sooner I start walking, the sooner I will be able to go back to my ship and see to my duties as the Pirate King."

"As you wish, m' liege. Get dressed, I will wait for you right outside this door, so if you need anything, just call me. You know . . . I will gladly help you take off your undergarments." And with those words he left the room.

_xxx_

Elizabeth was sitting by the table, observing Jack preparing a meal for them both. It was such an unbelievably domestic picture and yet the pirate could fit right in, with all his braids and rings, and the drunken swagger, he looked as if he was born in a kitchen. And she found herself yearning for this kind of life, with a ship docked just a few steps away from her home, and a man who would be there to share her joys and sorrows. But not just 'a man', she realized - this man, and the sudden thought made her panic. Was she not a wife of another? How could she forget about it for even a moment?

A shadow passed through her face. Jack had not mentioned Will's name, probably afraid she would once again turn into the same babbling mess she had been before, but the unspoken truths laid between them and she knew they would resurface soon. She did not know why Jack had returned to the Cove, she did not dare to ask him, afraid what truths his answer would hold.

And even if she was free from obligations toward her husband, she did not have any rights to this haunted man that danced between the kitchen tables just a few steps from her, playing with knives, probably for her entertainment only. Maybe once, when she had been free of guilt, and he had been free of his demons which had followed his every step since he had come back from the Locker, maybe then they could have had their chance. But they had lost it when the ominous sound of closing irons had announced her betrayal.

And yet he came back to bring her back to life, although she could not understand why.

She did not recall much of the last weeks. She had been aware that Teague had brought her to the Cove from her Island, but that was the last real memory she had of that time. Then there was nothing, only voices and panic, and scenes of the past, the constant sounds of fight, blood on her hands, a sword clashing against a sword, the sickening sound of human flesh torn apart by steel, agonizing cries of dying men. And sometimes she had found herself again on the cliff in Port Royal, corset tightening around her waist, stealing all the air from her lungs, only this time there was no Jack to cut the strings of her cage. She also had dreamt of the time when she had been trying to hide the chest, digging with her bare hands, deeper and deeper just to make sure it would silence the beating sound in her head, to no avail.

The next thing she remembered was his voice, not the words or meanings, just... the soothing music of constant guidance leading her back from the mist of painful memories. And in the end there had been the song; there was clearly some magic to it, and she thought it was the reason she could not recall the lyrics, which at the time had seemed so perfect.

"Where are you, dearie?" Elizabeth heard Jack asking and she looked at his concerned face. She then realized that he had been talking to her for some time now and must have wondered why she had not replied.

"Here, Jack," she smiled reassuringly, casting her previous pondering away. "I just realized how much I really owe you. You were my guide from my personal hell."

"Glad I could help. Now, scrambled or fried?"

"Excuse me?"

"_Eggs_, love. How do you want your _eggs_?"

"Oh. I - I don't really know . . . "

"Scrambled then, me specialty," he winked at her.

Lizzie laughed and for a second felt Jack's serious gaze fall upon her. Then he smiled, and started preparing her meal, humming some unknown, marine tune, while she just sat there, watching his swift moves with pleasure. After a moment her eyes began wandering across the room and suddenly she saw they were not alone anymore, for there was Teague Sparrow standing in the shadows. He did not know she had noticed him, and she took the liberty of observing his features, while he watched his own son.

If Jack was a master of hiding his emotions behind a mask of indifference, then his father must have been his teacher. But this time he did not know he was being observed and therefore was not careful enough, letting Elizabeth see the longing in his eyes, and the clear worry about his son's fate, although she could not yet understand the reasons for this fear.

Suddenly Teague looked precisely at her; she realized then, he had known that she was observing him and yet let her invade his privacy. He bowed at her, touching his hat and then he was gone, disappearing in the shadows only seconds before Jack turned around with two plates in his hands.

"Now, shall we?" he asked, not noticing the distraction on her features, and she smiled hearing his gentlemanly manner of speaking.

They ate in silence. Elizabeth finished her portion first and although she loudly demanded to get more, he refused to give it to her. "Your stomach won't like it, love. You haven't eaten much for almost a month now. You need to wait a bit before you can start eating normally."

Elizabeth scowled at him, but had to agree he was right. She already was beginning to feel a bit queasy and did not want to lose this wonderful breakfast, if only to not prove his point.

"What are you going to do now?" she asked, trying to distract herself.

"I believe that the answer 'lie down and enjoy my morning' won't satisfy you, will it?" he saw her meaningful gaze and continued "Thought not. Well... I've got a unique map which shows where a unique place lies and... I really could use a ship with a crew, if you have one to spare." He said the last part quickly and quietly.

"Another great adventure of Captain Sparrow? But a ship? What about your Pearl, isn't she good enough?"

"Well... I don't really know how to put it. I might have lost her," he looked at his feet and Elizabeth thought his expression reminded her of a boy caught stealing sweets.

"Again?" she could not hide the amusement on her features.

"Yes, _again_," he admitted, now annoyed. "And before you ask, yes, it was Barbossa. The bloody, mutinous bastard stole her from me when I was pleasantly distracted by...er... pleasurable company of...," Jack looked truly lost. "Well, never mind, what's done is done and can't be undone, unless we... I mean _I_ meet him when I reach my aim, for I have every reason to believe he desires what I desire and therefore his undesirable persona will appear in the most undesirable moment right where I'm going."

Elizabeth took a few seconds to process his answer, and then she asked: "So... where are _we_ going? And what is it that you want so much this time, Jack?"

"Ah... I was hoping that you would not ask, really. But it is only fair that I tell you, as you may also benefit from it yourself. Have you ever heard of Aqua de Vida?"

"The Fountain of Youth? Don't be ridiculous Jack. Such a thing does not exist. It's just a story for children."

"It's as real as the undead pirates or Davy Jones."

"Insanity"

"Don't say this to your husband; he might get offended."

Elizabeth fell silent, and Jack wondered if he had not gone too far, but then he heard her speak. "So I could be immortal?" she asked quietly. "Live forever, have thousands of one days with Will?"

Jack's stare was serious as he spoke. "You could live forever. With him, if that's what you want. See everything and do everything. Be free of death."

She stared at him for a few moments and then said "Alright, we'll take the Empress and leave tomorrow morning."

"No."

"No?"

"No, you will rest for a week, and I will see to it. No sword practicing. No running around trying to perform kingly duties. No studying the Code. Just resting, eating and gathering strength. Then, if you're strong enough, we will go."

She considered fighting but realized it would do no good and nodded. "Whatever you say, _mother_."

They left the kitchen laughing and went up the stairs and then numerous ladders to Jack's old room. He left her there, saying he would find a place to sleep so that she would not have to sleep with him, not that he minded anyway. Some part of her wished he would stay, but the reasonable Miss Swann pointed out all of the possible dangers coming from sleeping with Jack Sparrow in one room, let alone one bed.

The moment the door closed behind Jack, Elizabeth found a bucket and threw up half of what she had eaten before. It seemed Jack was right after all. Despite everything, suddenly the comfortable bed seemed incredibly tempting. She laid down and closed her eyes, wondering what distant shores and strange lands were on her horizon this time.

_xxx_

Jack managed to walk down the corridor only a few steps, before he leaned his back against the wooden wall. He was so weak, so bloody pathetic and weak. How could he find answers when nobody bothered to show him any questions? His life was this pitiful labyrinth of half-truths and nonsense, and in the end every road led to the place he never wished to visit again. He needed wind in his hair and salt upon his lips. He needed freedom, but how could he be free, when his wrist was still shackled to that blasted mast. And then there were the teeth and his screams, and then nothing.

His head began pounding with pain and he wished he had some opium to ease this agony, but he did not dare to go search for it in the city, and his stash was empty. It was a small town, Teague would know about his need before he would even reach for the coins in his pocket.

But those headaches... it had first happened when he had come back from the Locker, and after that every now and then he felt the sudden, irresistible urge to blow his brains out.

The darkness was consuming him, inch after inch, second after second, and with every white flash of this torture he had to restrain himself from crying out loud. Why hadn't he stayed on the sea, where he felt so peaceful? He had returned to the Cove, against his better judgment, hoping for something he would not have named, hoping to find the girl dancing around the bonfire, the girl he had known years ago. But she had long been dead to the world, and he mourned after her. Her innocent spirit had left this world when she had offered her rosy lips to cover a treachery, when she had found out what exactly she was capable of.

Instead of his girl, he had found this woman with a dark shadow on her face, the mark of death and loss. And with this sorrow in her eyes reflecting the blackness of her soul, she was more beautiful than ever, her power over him even more terrifying.

It would be wise to run away, now, when he had saved her, yet again; he owed her nothing. She would destroy him, if she hadn't already... But that was beyond his power. He could no more leave her than he could leave the sea. He hated her; oh, he hated her so much for what she had made of him, but he was shackled to her, the irons clasped tight around his heart and soul. And he could breathe no more.

'_It's not about living forever, Jackie, it's about living with yourself forever._' His father's words stung even more when he understood the truth they held. Suddenly he felt the hot sun of the Locker burning the skin on his cheeks. _Madness_. Just another word for brilliance, is it not? Or maybe he was fooling himself all along. Maybe he was only insane, barely seeing through the bars of the asylum created by his mind.

The throbbing pain in his head was killing him and he fell to the ground, unable to think. One bullet. It would take only one bullet. "_Put yourself out of your misery, Jack_," Barbossa's tempting voice resounded in his ears. "_And then we will feed my sweet little monkey Jack with your stinking meat_," the mutineer laughed loudly, and then the laugh turned into a cry for mercy coming from a hundred throats. _There are people there! People - drowning or burning alive on the ship that has already become a flaming torch!_ And he floated on a barrel of rum, thrown overboard in the midst of the battle. He should be there. He should be dying with them. His hand moved involuntarily to his belt where his pistol hung, his fingers closed around the familiar, cold handle and then for a second he came back to his senses, realizing what he was about to do.

Suddenly a pair of gentle hands lifted him from the ground and he felt he was being led somewhere upstairs. The person put him on the bed and he finally opened his eyes to see who was helping him, trying hard to ignore the feeling of someone splitting his head in half.

"Marta?" his croaking voice was barely above a whisper.

"Yes dear, that's me. You took care of the girl, now let Marta take care of you," she touched his forehead. "You're burning up. What hurts?"

"It's me head... Opium, please... need."

"Opium?" she wrinkled her nose, but then saw his face was contorted with pain and did not make any further comment. "I'll see what I can do."

"Teague can't know. Neither the girl."

Marta hesitated for a second. "He's your father. No matter what you think, he cares for you."

"Please."

"Ah... alright."

Jack closed his eyes, feeling darkness overcoming him. He was grateful for the escape he found in oblivion.

When he woke up hours later, he felt the sweetness of opium on his tongue and the strange, but pleasant heaviness of his head. It still hurt a bit but it was nothing compared to the previous evening. He was beginning to stand up when the door opened and Marta entered the room, eying him cautiously.

"How are you feeling today?" she asked.

"Better. I... thank you."

"No need, lad. I used to know you when you were little, running naked around the Cove, and although you probably can't remember me, I always treated you like a son," she smiled and then handed a small pack to him. "It's opium. I didn't find much but it will be enough for at least two or three times. I reckon it was not the first time you were in such pain, and from what you said last night, it seems you think it will probably not be the last."

"That's unfortunately true. But... if there is something you need, I will do it. I owe you... well, maybe even my life."

She seemed to consider his offer for a few seconds. "Actually, I do have one request."

"I'll do whatever you ask."

"Before you leave, talk to your father. And I'm saying _talk_, really listen to what he says and let him speak his peace."

"You ask a lot of me," Jack shook his head. "But I promised, so I will do it. I wish you'd asked for something simple, though. Jewels, magic trinkets, cursed gold..."

"I'm sorry Jack," she laughed. "Now, go to your girl, I've heard she has been trying to climb up to the highest tower already, and it's a quite dangerous place these days. She should be resting and instead she will probably need rescuing."

"I told her to stay in her bloody bed. A stubborn, stubborn girl!" He exclaimed and rushed to leave the room.

Marta watched him go, and as she did, sadness filled her old eyes. How could one man's soul be tormented so? He'd said a lot in his narcotic induced dreams, and Marta wondered if he would ever find peace in this world. Teague's firstborn son, some saw in him a dark-haired, heartless devil, but those who made the effort to know him better, could sometimes reach beyond his walls and notice the flawed, suffering man desperately hiding behind them.

She could not fully understand his struggle, but what she knew was enough to explain his agony. Elizabeth Swann-Turner, although recovering from her previous state, was still as out of Jack's reach as she had been when she had been sleeping. And he could not escape from this woman, not ever, not anymore. For a man who had kept his heart guarded for so long, to experience an emotion so strong was destroying. He would burn and burn until there would be nothing left, except from the grey ashes of nothingness. That was Jack Sparrow's fate, but there was one person, who could prevent it from happening, only Marta did not know if Elizabeth Swann would find it in herself to offer her heart to a man who pleaded for it silently, too proud to admit his heart had always belonged to her.

_xxx_

_So, what do you think? I'm waiting for your opinions and suggestions...  
_


	6. Lay Down Your Weary Tune

**A/N: **Thank you all for your great reviews. I love you all and for you I want to improve. I'm slightly depressed and totally broke these days, so it may (although not necessarily) be reflected in this chapter. Anyway, I'm eagerly waiting to hear what you think about it! Spoil me and write a few words!

**Warning**: This chapter is a bit over PG-13.

**Warning2**: It may be horribly emotional; I'm PMSing, so forgive me for any tears I cause (all right, I was weeping myself writing it, but it does not mean it is sad, it just means I'm mad).

**Disclaimer: **Of course I own Jack, he's now strapped to my bed, ready to be my slave.

**Beta: **wonderful** howlong!**

**Chapter 5**

**Lay Down Your Weary Tune.**

_The __ocean wild like an organ played  
The seaweeds wove its strands.  
The crashin' waves like cymbals clashed  
Against the rocks and sands.  
Lay down your weary tune, lay down,  
Lay down the song you strum.  
And rest yourself 'neath the strength of strings  
No voice can hope to hum._

_I stood unwound beneath the skies  
And clouds unbound by laws.  
The cryin' rain like a trumpet sang  
And asked for no applause.  
Lay down your weary tune, lay down,  
Lay down the song you strum.  
And rest yourself 'neath the strength of strings  
No voice can hope to hum._

_I gazed down in the river's mirror  
And watched its winding strum.  
The water smooth ran like a hymn  
And like a harp did hum.  
Lay down your weary tune, lay down,  
Lay down the song you strum.  
And rest yourself 'neath the strength of strings  
No voice can hope to hum._

"_Lay down your weary Tune", Bob Dylan._

_xxx_

_Sometimes__, when I close my eyes, for a split second I can still feel her hungry lips on mine, breath hot against my skin, promises of desire, trust and . . . maybe something else entirely, lingering in the scent she leaves on me, when she turns around to run. And when I stand alone watching her go, I hear the last tunes of the music her body played with mine, when the wet tongue plundered my mouth. I fear no more. _

_I curse this memory, along with all the other m__emories her presence draws to me. 'The bitter pain of betrayal is still raw,' I try to convince myself, but I know better than to believe those words. 'Tis no pain I feel, nor anger, although I wish it were, how easier the things would be, were I able to loathe and abhor as maybe I should. But when I see her so broken and restless, I cannot hate anymore. Not anymore. I can't. God help me, for she will be my death again, and I will do naught to stop her. I couldn't the first time now, could I? She will put the cold dagger to my throat and I will lean forward, so that the steel plunges deep into my yearning flesh, drawing warm blood, and I will embrace my downfall happily, when my lips touch hers for the second time. God, why can I feel her still? _

And yet it must be a secret, revealed to none but the blackness of the sleepless nights, when the ghosts of the past along with the demons of the present watch as the once great half-god lies panting, sweating and hard, trying to hold on to the images from his vivid dreams that keep him awake late at night. But neither the refreshing, cool breeze of dawn, nor the chill water of the Sea can extinguish this fire burning brightly deep in his loins. And so when the last bottle rolls empty across the room, where the air is now hot, steaming with the smell of primal hunger and lust, and when his chest heaves with the feverish, uneven breaths, only one name is cried out into the night, in between the raged gasps of this dark, fallen angel, crushed by the power of something he could not see before it has consumed him completely.

And when he falls asleep, finally calmed, briefly satisfied, although not complete, her arms are circling his waist, her lips pressed tightly against his neck, and he dares to cherish this illusion, knowing it will disappear too soon, turning into meaningless mist, the lie revealed by the treacherous first light of dawn. But she will return, again and again drawing him slowly into madness, and just like when she left him to die, he will just stand there helplessly, not willing to alter his fate, as she will lead him, unresisting, straight to his undoing.

_xxx_

Day after day, the week passed almost unnoticeably and Jack was suddenly forced to face the fact they would be leaving within the next twenty-four hours. He hoped Elizabeth would forget about his rushed promise, or at least agree to prolong her rest at the Cove, but he only mentioned it to her once, after that he abandoned all attempts of persuading her to change her mind, it was decidedly unhealthy for him. She had given him_ the_ Stare, and even now the mere remembrance made him shiver.

And yet, although he would prefer to stay in the city, suddenly somehow less interested in the Fountain and in all it represented, he could not pretend he wasn't pleased seeing her recover so quickly. Every time they ate, her plate was full of exotic dishes, as if she was determined to make up for the past month and consume all of her rations in one week. But thanks to that unnatural appetite, with every hour Elizabeth's unique glow was coming back to her skin, once again turning her into this radiant woman he remembered from the past, whose eyes glimmered like little diamonds seated in the marble-white skin- also the result of their staying in town, and the only thing he did not appreciate about it. While they resided there, Elizabeth kept insisting on reading ancient books or talking to Teague, focused on learning as much as possible before they would leave, and this sudden thirst for knowledge caused the almost complete loss of the golden color of her skin. Now she looked more like the old Governor's daughter, than a true pirate, and Jack certainly did not like the transition. She needed sun and wind, but she would get them only if they would set sail soon. And therefore Jack gave the orders to fetch a crew of good, trustworthy men, who would help them safely reach their destination.

Sitting in his quarters, Jack was about to once again compare his normal maps with the one he had stolen from Barbossa, when he heard a noise as if someone was clearing his throat in the back of his room. Of course it was impossible: the door was locked, just like the windows, and he was almost positive there were no secret passages to this cabin. 'Almost', being the crucial word here, it seemed; he remembered where he was exactly, and suddenly impossible turned swiftly in his mind into improbable. He raised his eyes up and recognized his father emerging from the corner, his usual scarlet coat waving swiftly around his ankles. There was no hat on Teague's head though, and it surprised Jack how much older he looked without it. He couldn't help but notice the deep wrinkles marking the skin around Teague's eyes and mouth, indicating his age, and not for the first time did he wonder how old exactly his father was. Sixty? Ninety? He could not tell. Yet another mystery he was not privy to.

"You're heading towards rough waters, Jack," Teague's deep, emotionless voice resounded in the room, and Jack shuddered involuntary.

"Really? I would've sworn I was on land, so to speak, for you cannot really call Shipwreck a _land_ now, can you? But I'm fairly certain we are not moving anywhere," Jack looked at his father thoughtfully. "Although, if you _are_ right, then I would suggest abandoning this vessel immediately. If it is ever going to change it's location, it will be only to go down and rest at the bottom of the cove, as it were," he moved his attention back to his maps, although he could hardly read one word. His father's presence really did not help him focus on things, so he decided to ignore him completely, hoping he would understand and have the decency to leave. Unfortunately for Jack, the second he made this decision, a nagging, feminine voice at the back of his head, sounding surprisingly like Elizabeth, said with all its might '_You promised to talk to him!' _Bloody honest streak always acquiring his attention in the most undesirable of moments.

"What do you want?" Jack sighed. "I understand you did not come here to entertain me, if so, you're really doing a poor job."

Teague did not respond instantly; he crossed the room to approach the window, then he turned back and seated himself on a comfortable chair right opposite the desk, where Jack was leaning over his maps and navigational devices. The old pirate's head tilted backwards slightly, and for a few seconds he just observed his son with his piercing eyes, his expression unreadable. Jack gazed at his father for some time, as if accepting the silent challenge, but had to retreat and look away; staring at Teague was like looking into the eyes of a cat, you could never win such battle. And so when his father finally spoke, Jack could not suppress the sudden wave of relief that flew over him.

"Did you know that some people believe that if you save someone's life you become personally responsible for their fate?"

Jack refused to look at Teague; he had a sudden, discomforting feeling he knew exactly where this conversation was going. "Do they now?" he asked, trying to sound uninterested. "Foolish, I'd say. You would have to spend your entire life trying to help the one you rescued, keeping them out of troubles. A high price to pay, and in the end only a waste of time, no less."

"And yet you saved Mrs. Turner's life… how many times was it? Three? Four?"

"I stopped counting when I run out of me fingers. That's including both feet," Jack grumbled.

Teague laughed. "You know Jack, from all of my children, I've always considered you the brightest one, and yet in some matters you're still unbelievably stupid."

"Do you need anything in particular? Or did you come here just to lift up me spirits, as it were?"

"Jack… I-," the old pirate hesitated for a second. "I know you never follow my advices, so I will give you none. But at least do yourself a favor and for once be careful. You may want to deny it, but my blood runs in your veins, boy, and I understand the pain you suffer."

Jack's head shot up, his eyes suddenly dark with anger. "Do you really? How did you like the Locker then? Or the Kraken, while we're at it? Oh… I forgot; you weren't there. Please don't insult me saying you know how I feel."

Teague's expression remained calm to Jack's outburst, but his eyes filled with such sadness and pain, his son had to look away, afraid of the feelings he saw there. They sat opposite each other in silence, emotions boiling underneath the thin layer of faked indifference.

"You're planning on going to the Fountain of Youth," stated Teague finally.

Jack was caught off guard by this sudden change of subject and so he could not hide the surprise that for a second appeared on his features, when he wondered how exactly his father found out about his destination. "Maybe. Why?"

"Immortality never offered anyone happiness. In the end it always becomes a burden, something greatly desired and yet not understood by the mortals. Do not refuse death, Jack. You may yearn for it one day," his father smiled.

"Unlikely."

"Really? Then why do you crave it so much, Jackie? Is this because of your courage or your fear, eh? Do you love your existence so much that you cannot part from it, or are you simply afraid of what death may bring? Oh… but you do know what death brings, don't you? So you want to avoid it, no matter what the cost. It sounds an awful lot like fear to me."

"So maybe me motives are not heroic, but at least I will be alive and not dead, seems good enough for me. What difference does it make why I want it?"

"What difference? It is a difference like the one between life and death, love and hatred. A thin line which when crossed changes everything. Sometimes it can be crossed again, but sometimes, like in this case, it is a one way trip. Be careful for what you wish, boy. The things that bring us the most pain are usually the ones we want most in the world; nothing worse than a wish that comes true, I'd say."

They both fell silent for a few seconds. Jack stared at the Cove visible through his window. The water shone brightly in the sun, and far in the distance he could see the open ocean, for a moment he thought he could hear the roaring waves, waiting impatiently for his return, singing the bittersweet song of freedom.

A wandering bird indeed, never able to settle down and rest, always drifting without a course or a map, a broken compass in his hand, the arrow spinning with every beat of his frightened heart.

"Why did you never look for her?" Jack asked suddenly, and Teague looked at him thoughtfully, although not at all surprised, as if he had been expecting this question for days, for years even.

"You really think I didn't?" he asked. "Oh, search her I did. I spent years chasing after her ghost, always a few steps behind. But, you see, I could never catch her, never see her. And then I understood she fled because I tried to cut her wings. How could I not recognize a wild spirit like hers? How could I entrap her so? You hate me for letting her go… but not there lies my sin, I tried to imprison her soul thinking I was giving her all the freedom of the world, foolishly believing that was what she wanted, and she could not live like that. But I never regretted having her for that short time, although maybe in the end it gave me more darkness than light. But even the dimmest light shines brightly in the darkness, does it not? And so I am happy I had at least that much." He stopped talking for a few moments, lost in memories, and Jack thought his father had finished, but then he spoke again quietly, "When you were born, I was the happiest man in the world. Your mother was everything to me, and she gave me you, who's became my life. When she left… I know she wished to take you with her, but she knew it would break me, kill the last spark of life I had in me. She left her heart behind in the cove, with me, knowing she would never see you again. So you are right to blame me for her abandoning you, because indeed she did it for me. Had she known what kind of a father I would become maybe she would have reconsidered her decision though…" he smiled darkly and Jack shifted uncomfortably on his chair.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Don't I owe you that much at least, for ruining your childhood? You deserve to know it was me who stood between a mother and her beloved son. I just hope someday you will understand the fault was not only mine and find the strength to forgive me. For now, blame me all you wish, but, I swear to God, I loved her with my whole heart… I sill do."

Jack could feel his father's gaze on him but could not look at him, knowing he would then never say what he needed to say. "I was happy here, when I was a kid," he begun. "Even after she left, I mean. It was me home after all. Maybe if I could go back in time I would change it, my leaving the cove and all," Jack looked back at his past, talking now more to himself than to his father. "I knew what destiny ran in my blood but I wanted to be a good man, not a thief, I never was the material for a real pirate, was I?" he smiled sadly. "And now I come here, after years of running, looking exactly like you, behaving like you, and, surprisingly, I can live with that. Maybe if the events took a different course I would not be the man I am now, maybe I would be a better man, a man worthy of…" his voice faltered as he thought of something.

"Of _her_?" Teague shot him a meaningful look. "Jack, what you've been through, has created the person you have become. Never doubt that and never regret that. It shaped you, and your legend shines more brightly than any pirate's during the ages."

"A legend?" he smirked. "It means nothing in the end."

"True…" a wide smile stretched Teague's lips. "Maybe you did learn something after all." He stood up from his chair and once again went to the window. "You're leaving tomorrow?" he asked after a moment.

"It seems so. Lizzie is incredibly thirsty for the water, and who am I to refuse the lady's wishes, eh?"

Teague's eyebrow shot upwards as he stared at his son with amusement. "Lizzie?"

"What?"

"You called her 'Lizzie'. "

"Oh that… well, that's her name, is it not?"

"It most certainly is, Jackie. It most certainly is… Well, I believe we will see each other tomorrow when you set sail, so I will not say goodbye just yet. I have a gift I wish to give you tomorrow morning, but it's a surprise," Teague winked mysteriously and crossed the room to reach the door. He was about to leave when he turned around and looked at his son, "You're not me, you know. Remember that. You've got your own chance…to make better choices than I did." The door closed before Jack could say anything.

_x__xx_

It was a perfect morning. A few white clouds were scattered across the sky and the gentle south wind could not be more inviting for the men of the sea, who woke up at dawn, feeling the everlasting call resounding in their souls. The ships danced in the bay like wild horses, tugging at their mooring lines as if those harnesses. They yearned to sail, free under full canvas, the masts striking proudly up into the sky, circled by flocks of seagulls, and their only companion the silver dolphins diving under the keel.

Jack went across the dock, passing by the pirates who busied around with various boxes and barrels; they were all leaving today with the first morning tide, and the feeling of nervous, but joyful anticipation hung in the air. Away in the distance he saw _The__Empress_ and her crew running around in hurry, making the last preparations before they would depart. With no haste he approached the ship and went up the ladder which joined the pier and the vessel. He felt the familiar rolling of the waves under his feet and realized how much he missed this. When was the last time he had willingly spent over a week away from the sea? He could not recall.

His eyes wandered around the deck and he spotted a slim figure standing at the helm, barking orders at the frightened crew. That was his Pirate King indeed, a glorious swan among sparrows. Elizabeth took this exact moment to take off her hat. Her hair, before tugged neatly under the cover, now fell loose in the wind, a beautiful golden veil, and Jack forgot how to breathe. He watched her, completely undone by her magic, suddenly realizing the way to the Fountain would be much too long for his liking: how could he endure seeing her like this every day for weeks? How could any man? At that second she noticed him and smiled this bright, sunny smile he saw so rarely, making all his thoughts and doubts instantly vanish from his mind. '_Even the dimmest light shines brightly in the darkness.' _Was it not worth it all in the end?

He crossed the deck to join Elizabeth at the helm and as he was approaching her, he wished it was another time, another world, he wished they were both free to make new choices. But Teague was wrong, some things could not be altered, and you had no choice but to plunge into the depths, knowing that with every second your chances of resurfacing were even slimmer. And yet you still swam downwards, drawn by the mystic magnetisms of the bottom, even though it meant you would drown sooner or later, when you would have no more air in your lungs. But there really wasn't even a choice to begin with now, was there?

The pirate felt the familiar pulsing in his head and rubbed his temples, hoping it did not mean he would miss this wonderful day under the deck, dry-heaving over a bucket, or barely conscious, dozing off after a dosage of opium. He did not want her to see him like this.

Jack observed Elizabeth as she was talking to one of her crew men, and he admired the way she turned from the girl she had been before into the strong woman she was now. And to think she used to insist on calling her Miss Swann, afraid what people would think about her, were she to fraternize with a pirate. But then his eyes clouded with melancholy, when he pondered on how much she had to endure to become who she was now. _"What you've been through has created who you have become.' _

"Jack, I'm glad you're here." Elizabeth spoke, pulling him out of his reverie. She looked at some papers she held in her hand and continued, "I've been here for the last two hours, preparing everything for our departure, oh by the way, your father is in the hold, he told me he had some cargo for you he wanted to leave there," when Jack did not respond, she looked at him carefully, putting away her things. Seeing the pained expression on his face, she lowered her voice and asked, "Jack, are you alright? You look pale… maybe you should lie down in the cabin."

He pulled his hat lower over his face, hoping that the lack of sun would stop the headache before it would become too strong to bear. "M' alright, Lizzie. I may have drunk a bit too much yesterday, don't fret yourself over me." He smiled reassuringly, but she kept staring at him suspiciously and he had to turn his gaze away, knowing she could usually see right through him and therefore it was unbelievably hard to lie to this girl. Besides it seemed the pain was subsiding after all. Maybe it really was just because of the late night rum, as unlikely as it sounded.

To his relief, he noticed Teague approaching them, and he crossed the deck to meet his father halfway. Elizabeth followed, keeping a cautious eye on Jack, and a worried expression appeared for a second on her face, but it washed off quickly when she met Teague's gaze.

"I came to bid you both farewells. May your winds be friendly and your passage clear of dangers," his eyes fell on Jack. "Although that last one is rather improbable in your case, is it not, Jackie?"

Jack only shrugged his shoulders, and Elizabeth smiled. "Thank you for your kindness. If it wasn't for you, I would not even be here. Thank you for coming back for me, when I thought I was abandoned in this world." A tear rolled down her cheek and she made a step towards Teague to hug him closely. He hugged her back awkwardly, but his eyes remained focused on Jack, who was just standing there, looking into the distance with an expression of deep guilt on his face.

Elizabeth pulled back from the embrace and dried her cheeks with the back of her hand.

"Well, are you going to tell me now what is in those boxes you placed in the hold?"

"The finest rum of the Caribbean, lass," Teague grinned.

"But I ordered rum!"

"Two barrels? Let me remind you that you're sailing with my _son_."

Elizabeth laughed and looked at Jack, who smiled half-heartedly and once again a frown appeared on the woman's features. She turned back to Teague, "Well thank you again. I hope I will be seeing you soon."

"Oh I don't doubt that," he moved his stare to his son. "Are you not going to hug your old father, Jackie?" he mocked, and when he saw the expression that appeared on Jack's face he chuckled. "Shake my hand then at least," he pulled out his hand, which his son shook after a few seconds of hesitation. With that Teague left the ship and Elizabeth once again faced Jack.

"I don't know what is wrong, but you _will_ tell me. And I swear, if you continue looking as if we are at a funeral then I will burn all your bloody rum!" She exclaimed and that threat finally brought an honest smile back to Jack's lips.

"You wouldn't dare," he purred, and she leaned towards his ear, once again taking his breath away.

"Don't tempt me," she whispered huskily, and then pulled back shouting orders at her crew.

Jack observed her for a few moments, before he laughed loudly, casting away the dark clouds which were hovering over his head. He reached the helm the second Elizabeth appeared on the other side. They both grabbed the steering wheel and looked at each other expectantly.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Elizabeth asked sweetly.

"What do you have in mind, dearie?"

"I just wanted to avoid any confusion on your side, were you to think you were captaining this fine vessel. She is _mine_."

Jack's face fell slightly, but he recovered almost instantly. "Maybe we will share captaincy then? What say you, love? Share the vessel, share the captain's quarters, as it were…," he wriggled his eyebrows suggestively, and Elizabeth seemed to seriously consider his proposition, before she locked her eyes with his, smiling like a cat looking at his prey.

"I'm afraid the answer to that question will be 'No'. But the position of the first mate is still open, if you're interested."

"I want you to know I'm deeply wounded, love, but if that's what you want then so be it. Don't think my title will change though. You do remember who I am, I hope."

"_Captain_ Jack Sparrow, the first mate of _The Empress_?"

"Exactly," he flashed her his golden grin.

"Then I believe we've reached an accord," she looked into the distance and seemed to consider something. "Of course you are aware of the fact that I know hardly anything about captaining a vessel? For instance, leaving the cove may be a bit… _tricky_."

"Of course, love," he answered softly. "Let me instruct you then."

Jack stood behind Elizabeth and placed his hands upon hers, showing her the right position, at the same time explaining everything she had to do to leave the port. He whispered into her ear the proper commands, which she then shouted loudly at the crew. He smiled proudly, when the crew men shivered whenever she laid her eyes on them. She was already a legend: the most blood-thirsty woman of the seven seas, and he would do everything he could to help her keep her reputation of a great sailor. He owed her this. '_Thank you for coming back for me, when I thought I was abandoned in this world.'_ His eyes darkened but then he felt a gentle squeeze on his hand and all was forgotten when she turned her head and looked up at him, her sparkling eyes meeting his.

"Where to now, Captain Sparrow?"

"For now? Towards the horizon, Captain Swann… towards the horizon." And after a few moments he felt her leaning back into him, falling into his warm embrace. His heart fluttered while she rested herself against his chest. Together, they were one with their ship, and for now there was peace.

_xxx_

_I really hope you liked it. Tell me what you think._


	7. Shelter from The Storm

**A/N**: As some of you know the long break in posting was due to my holiday. I was in Slovakia and then in Hungary. It was cool and I wrote a lot, however I had a food poisoning and it wasn't that cool anymore. What can I say? Life sucks big time. I do hope however, that you enjoy reading what I came up with when I was away.

**Beta: Howlong!**

Special thanks to the lovely** lara666**! I'm glad you're back among my readers, hun! Oh and **lez**, I missed you so much!

**Disclaimer**: Of course I own Captain Jack Sparrow. He is mine… mine…MINE! Muahahahaha

_(Kath has been escorted out by four gentlemen in white robes. She is currently a resident of a nice, secluded facility, just a few miles out of town. She has been claimed to call herself The King of the Pirates and the Wench of Captain Sparrow. We join her family in mourning.)_

**Rating**: It is still T, however chapter 7 (or 8) will be most probably rated M. Just so you know.

**Chapter 6**

**"Shelter from the storm"**

_'Twas in another lifetime, one of toil and blood  
When blackness was a virtue and the road was full of mud  
I came in from the wilderness, a creature void of form.  
"Come in," she said, "I'll give you shelter from the storm."_

_And if I pass this way again, you can rest assured  
I'll always do my best for her, on that I give my word  
In a world of steel-eyed death, and men who are fighting to be warm.  
"Come in," she said, "I'll give you shelter from the storm."_

_Not a word was spoke between us, there was little risk involved  
Everything up to that point had been left unresolved.  
Try imagining a place where it's always safe and warm.  
"Come in," she said, "I'll give you shelter from the storm."_

_I was burned out from exhaustion, buried in the hail,  
Poisoned in the bushes an' blown out on the trail,  
Hunted like a crocodile, ravaged in the corn.  
"Come in," she said, "I'll give you shelter from the storm."_

_Suddenly I turned around and she was standin' there  
With silver bracelets on her wrists and flowers in her hair.  
She walked up to me so gracefully and took my crown of thorns.  
"Come in," she said, "I'll give you shelter from the storm."_

_'Shelter from the storm', Bob Dylan_

_xxx_

Jack woke up early, even before the sun lit the deck of the Empress. It had always been his habit, and even when he captained his own vessel, he could never sleep till midday and miss this most beautiful time of the day, when the golden rays revealed the true beauty of his ship. He could not understand why sailors usually did not seem to appreciate this watch, but he always woke up to observe the rising sun breaking the horizon; indeed, it was the only thing that could ever touch the uncatchable line dividing the sea and the sky, and as such it held some sort of a pulling power over Jack Sparrow.  
But, as always, when the sun was finally wholly visible above the sea, Jack could not fall back to sleep, so instead he occupied himself by helping with the rigging, working as hard as every crewman on the Empress. He knew he probably didn't have to, but somehow the strain of his muscles let him forget of all the disturbing notions restlessly plundering his mind.

And yet the hours passed and with every minute Jack's eyes darted even more to the captain's door, which remained closed since the last evening. When the bell rang announcing ten o'clock, he could not stop his feet, which led him straightly to her cabin, but when he got there, he hesitated, startled by the strange noises audible from behind the thin door. He listened for a moment, then pressed the handle gently, and peered inside. There he saw Elizabeth leaning over a bucket, throwing her guts out.

Without a second to think, Jack crossed the room and knelt by her, keeping her hair out of her face. She did not acknowledge his presence with any gesture or sound, as another wave of nausea overpowered her body. When she finally finished, he took her by her hand, seating her on a chair. He then poured some water to a cup and handed it to her together with a wet cloth to clean her face. Elizabeth thanked him with a grateful stare, but soon closed her eyes as she pressed the cool fabric against her forehead. After a few moments she leaned back on her chair and looked at Jack, who was staring at her quizzically ever since he had handed her the cloth.

"Alright," she said, "I'm waiting, let's hear it."

"Hear what?" The expression on Jack's face was one of sheer interest and confusion.

Elizabeth hesitated. "Well . . . I thought - I mean, you've seen me there and . . . ," she sighed loudly, regaining her composure. "Go ahead Jack. I'm a big girl. I can take it. Laugh at your Pirate King suffering from a seasickness like a common landlubber."

For a second he didn't respond, just looking at her in a way she could not comprehend. It then struck her he was only in his breeches; nothing covered the tanned skin upon his chest, and she almost blessed the nausea that made her look so pale, because she would probably blush right about now.

"Why do you think I would laugh at you, eh?" he asked at last. "Do you really think I'm _that _insensitive? I'm deeply wounded, love." Jack's hand flew to his chest in a coquette manner, but when the only response he got was a raised eyebrow, he spoke again. "Maybe you don't know me as well as you thought then," he pouted.

As if to prove his words, he stood up and walked to the place where Elizabeth had left her bucket; with it in his hands, he went to the open window and poured out the contents into the sea.

"Do you have a rope here?" he asked not turning around and Elizabeth stirred in surprise.

"What?"

"A rope. A String. A cord or a line. Something that you use when you want to tie something to something else, as it were."

"Oh, yes, of course. There is one just a few inches from your left foot," she answered, wondering what he needed it for.

Wordlessly, Jack took the line and tied it to the bucket's handle, securing it with a hard knot, then he lowered it to the sea, and Elizabeth realized he was just cleaning it so that there would be no stench in the cabin. She watched him as he worked, ever so gracefully, looking so much unlike any man she'd ever met. Of course, many of them had been handsome, she had been a rich heiress and there had been many suitors who had wanted her to become their wife, but none of them could compare to Jack.

It was strange how he tried to hide his appearance though; the long hair, the bandana, mustache and beard - everything in vain, for it took only a few seconds for a sharp eye to notice the beauty beneath the layers of dirt and trinkets. And, strangely enough, although most of her past suitors had always been impeccably clean, the heavy smell of perfume lingering on their skin and clothes had never made her feel then the way she was feeling now, seeing Jack after the whole morning of hard labor along other crewmen. It was obvious he did not just sit while the others worked, no, there were evidences right there on his skin, glistening with sweat, dark from the sun . . . Standing here like that, she realized, he looked like a human incarnation of everything that was sinful and desired.

His muscles, tensing just underneath his skin, fixed her stare, and Elizabeth could not avert her eyes as they wandered lower and lower, taking in the scars and tattoos marking his body, right to that wonderful line of black hair on his stomach, and then even further south, to the place where the brown skin was covered by the thin material of Jack's breeches. Suddenly she felt the cabin became unbearably hot and she just knew that the crimson color of her cheeks were betraying her thoughts. With all her might, she tore her stare away and forced herself to look back at his face, but she was not prepared for the sight of his eyes boring directly into hers with unhidden amusement.

'Oh God, he saw me looking,' she thought and yet did not lower her gaze, deciding not to give him this final satisfaction. She would not let him intimidate her. But her heart started beating even faster, when she realized that although he was smiling at her, there was also something else hiding in the blackness of his devilish eyes, something wild, dangerous and primal. A nervous chill ran down her spine, but she did not fear, no, it was definitely not fear that she experienced, and it scared her even more.

And then Jack moved. Elizabeth watched with terror as he approached her, but she was fixed to the spot by his eyes, hypnotized by their almost mystic powers, and she could not move if she tried. But he went past her to sit again on his chair, and Elizabeth wondered why was it that she felt so … disappointed.

"Has it been the first time you felt sick lately?" he asked suddenly.

"I - No, no," Elizabeth's voice sounded thin and weak, so she cleared her throat, "It happened before, twice in the cove and yesterday morning, when we left the port."

He looked at her sharply. "Why didn't you say something?"

"About what? There is nothing to talk about, it must be an aftereffect of my illness, and the rolling of the ship certainly does _not _help, that's all."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course, what else would it be?" Jack looked at her in a strange way, but did not answer, instead he just stood up again and crossed the cabin to the table where Elizabeth placed her maps.

"I thought about our heading and... I wanted to ask you to sail to Tortuga first," he said finally, and again the sudden change of subject caught her off guard.

"What? Why?"

To her surprise, she thought Jack looked slightly uncomfortable. "I figured that maybe when Barbossa realized I... ah... _misplaced _his charts he would come back looking for me there... "

And Elizabeth cursed herself for being so foolish - of course, the Pearl. It was difficult to say how hard it was for him, now when his beloved ship was once again in the hands of his enemy; he rarely let people know what he felt deep inside, but she knew that the Black Pearl was everything to Jack, and it was breaking her heart to see him so dark, so unlike the man she knew. She swore she would do everything to bring the smile back to his face. "I'm sorry Jack," she said softly. "We will find your ship, I promise."

"Somehow when you say it, I even start believing it myself."

"I will order the men to set course for Tortuga. Although…," she added more like an afterthought, "I wish we could go to Port Royal too... It seems forever since I've been there. Maybe- Well... I wanted to visit my father's grave."

"You know we can't, Lizzie," Jack's voice was delicate, as if he was speaking to a child, and it irritated Elizabeth, although she could not really say why.

"Of course I know that!" she cried. "We're both wanted pirates and I would be hung before I would set my foot on the pier. You dragged me and Will into this madness and now I can't even see my home, unless it would be to meet with a hangman's noose. But you would like it, wouldn't you?" she lowered her voice, "Watch me swing in the wind with a string around my neck?" Even as she spoke those words she regretted them, knowing how untrue they were, knowing she had never blamed him, not even for a second in her life . . . If it wasn't for him, she would be dead, Will would be dead, and her trust in him had always been strong, never wavered, not even when she had watched him sail away from the Pearl when the Kraken attacked them. But how could she explain this to him?

Elizabeth looked at Jack, hoping he would yell at her, defend himself, but he did not say anything. He just watched her with hurt in his eyes for a few long moments, and then... then he turned around to leave the cabin. She thought he would slam the doors but he closed them delicately, leaving her alone with her thoughts and the sudden feeling she had lost something she didn't even know she had.

_xxx_

There was a certain heaviness in the air and the canvas hung limp in the stagnant air. For the first time this day Elizabeth found the courage to step out of her cabin. She was the sodding captain and it was only proper that she should inquire about what was causing this unusual stillness, but she stopped when she saw Jack leaning over the railing just a few steps from her. _Of course you would see him, you are on a bloody ship, just talk to him, apologize. Accept the consequences of acting like an immature child._

She made a move to approach him and was about to speak, when he silenced her, rising his hand.

"Shhh . . . can you hear that?" he whispered.

Elizabeth thought for a second, wondering what exactly he meant, but she could neither see nor hear anything unusual.

"Look," he said, and pointed at the horizon, urging her to notice something he obviously saw there. At last, she realized there was a small cloud in the distance, but she did not understand what was so special about this particular one. She looked at Jack questioningly and he just smiled, as if nothing had happened earlier, as if she had not questioned his friendship with the most horrible accusations. "Before the night falls, those sails will be full and the rigging will be crying with exhaustion. There is a storm coming ahead."

"A storm? Shall I order the men to make port and wait it through?"

"No," he grinned. "I would never dream of losing all the fun. But the question remains . . . are _you _up for the challenge?"

Elizabeth raised her chin and straightened to her full height. "Of course!"

"Then get yourself ready, Lizzie-girl, I shall come for you when the time comes."

xxx

There is something indescribably powerful in the sight of the approaching darkness. Unlike most of her friends, Elizabeth had always been fond of storms. She did not think of them as of a destructive force that could take life away, on the contrary, in the complete and utter chaos, she could always find elements of creation. There was life in every falling drop of rain. And although the rolling thunders often made her shudder, she had always felt almost religious exultation when Mother Nature showed her true powers. People could fool themselves thinking they possessed the world, bearing civilization to lands which had never known the human presence before, but it all crumbled to pieces in the face of a hurricane or an earthquake.

However, never before could Elizabeth observe the approaching storm without any shelter to run away to. What was a ship really? How could it fight against such force? And so Elizabeth stood at the bow, watching her pride, the Empress, with every minute getting closer to the ominous clouds, to be finally completely embraced by the darkness, which fell upon the world even though it was still daylight.

It wasn't raining yet, and there was barely any wind, but every few seconds the sky was torn by striking lightening, followed by roaring thunders which froze the blood in Elizabeth's veins. She tried to remain calm, seeing that most of the crew's eyes were focused on her, but she could not restrain her fingers from clutching the railing nervously every time she heard the deep growling sound of the nearing gale.

Finally Elizabeth felt moisture on her cheeks, and she almost met the first raindrops with relief; a few minutes more and she would surely go mad with anticipation. As if reading her thoughts, Jack approached her from behind and placed one hand upon her shoulder. She didn't jump only because her already sharpened senses let her hear Jack's light footsteps a moment before he touched her.

"It's time, love. Come with me"

Elizabeth nodded in response. She remained at the bow for a few more seconds, feeling that the first blows of the wind were already causing them to gain speed, and then followed him. When she reached Jack at the helm, he took a step back, letting her take his place.

"Now, take her," he said with a smile.

She obeyed, carefully closing her fingers around the warm wood. She gasped when she felt an unfamiliar sensation beneath her hands, almost an electric jolt flowing from the helm and then through her body. For a few seconds she would have sworn the ship was a living creature, she could sense her nervous strain, feel the awareness of the approaching fight. Then, without any warning, a strong blow shook the ship, almost pulling the wheel from Elizabeth's hands. She was unprepared, and therefore lost her balance, but was caught quickly by Jack, standing behind her.

"Careful," he said. "I wager you don't wish to meet your end yet? You know, there is all the glory in death at sea... I've done it though and I strongly object against repeating it anytime soon."

"Jack, I don't think I can … she fights so."

"Ah, that she does," he admitted. "So don't do this for her, she does not need the strength of your muscles, it's only the strength of your will that she needs," he put his hands upon Elizabeth's. "Let her take the blows; she is a fighter, that one. I assure you, all you have to do is lead her and not fight against her; she is your ally."

Elizabeth listened to Jack's words murmured into her ear, at the same time trying to adjust the course, focusing more on her ship now, than on the tension of her muscles. With a surprise she found it was not that hard anymore, because the ship cooperated swiftly, and only sometimes she had to put more strength into steering. But in fact, Elizabeth had never felt like this before, it was as if something was burning down in the pit of her stomach, rising up to her heart and then to her head; being drunk usually gave her similar experiences, and yet it was somewhat different. A wide smile stretched her lips as she took in the beauty of her ship, the crew busying themselves with the work that needed to be done on the deck, and above her head, fighting with the ruby rigging. She could understand why Jack did not want to run from it. There was power in this and she drank it greedily.

However, as hours went by, Elizabeth felt weariness overcoming her, and although she still enjoyed steering, her limbs ached from the hard work. But it seemed that the storm only gathered its strength, for it felt like it would be only a matter of minutes before they would disappear in the ragging ocean, becoming but a memory and a tale. And yet, every time Elizabeth looked at Jack, his face was calm, if not happy, glowing with something unusual she could not identify. She hoped she could understand the source of his joy, knowing that it was the key to understanding the enigma whose name was Jack Sparrow. But it could not be, would not be … he held his secrets to close to his vest, and even though she sometimes thought she knew him, he changed too quickly for her to be sure if it wasn't just a mirage of sorts. Elizabeth raised her head to look up at him again, and noticed that this time he was gazing at her as well. When he noticed her stare, he laughed loudly, as if she had just told him a most amusing joke, but then his laughter ceased and he frowned, eyeing her closely.

"Go and fetch a rope, Lizzie, this night is far from being over, and I fear it will be easier for us to strap ourselves to this blasted ship," he yelled over the tempest, and Elizabeth nodded. She took off down the stairs and toward her cabin and after a few seconds emerged with a long and thick line. She was about to rush back to join Jack, when a loud cracking sound made her stop dead in her tracks. The upper part of the foremast broke, falling onto the deck. Most of it was hanging above the water and only the forestay was securing it from plunging completely into the water, but it was obvious it should be cut loose or else the fallen mast would cause them all to lose the battle with the storm. Elizabeth moved toward the bow to free the lines, when her heart almost stopped beating - there, a few feet above the roaring sea, tangled in ratlines, hung a young man, helplessly struggling with the rigging. He had probably been trying to secure a footloose topsail when the mast had broken, taking him down. Even from the distance, Elizabeth knew he would never get free without a knife, and most probably no one even knew he was there - no one except for her.

The decision was made before she even knew it, her mind hardly registered the actions as she threw the line she held to the deck, and run, placing her dagger between her teeth. Then, before anyone could stop her, she sat on the fallen mast, straddling it, and slowly begun moving toward the sailor at the end, hoping the lines would hold the weight of them both.

_xxx_

The wind was too loud for Jack to hear the breaking mast, but he saw it falling before his eyes, and hoped that someone would be intelligent enough to remove it from the deck. The crimson sails were dipping in the water, gaining weight and even now he felt how the Empress objected against the sudden obstacle.

"No worries, love," he patted the wheel gently. "A few minutes and everything will be just - " He could not finish, for the words have struck in his throat, as he noticed a figure running toward the fallen rigging. He knew it was Elizabeth, just like he was certain she was up to something he would surely and definitely not like. His eyes flew to where she was heading, and it was only then when he saw the trapped man and realized what she was planning on doing. Jack's skin paled under his tan, as his eyes darted from the sailor to Elizabeth, still running with her knife in mouth, and back to this boy, Jeremiah or James was it? He could not recall, but it did not matter, not now when she was already sitting on the mast, leaving the safety of the deck.

"Christ, no," Jack whispered under his breath and then louder called one of the crewmen to take the helm. As he ran past the rest of the men, he saw they were all looking in the direction of Elizabeth, probably wondering why their Captain and the Pirate King, a woman, no less, was risking her life to save someone she didn't even come to know yet. But Jack knew the answer to this question and it sent a shiver down his spine. It was a life, and as such, it was worth fighting for, no matter the price. The fact that he could understand this did not make him feel any better.

After what had felt like eternity, Jack finally reached the place where Elizabeth had left the deck. He eyed the rigging with a knowing look, and understood that if he added his weight to theirs, inevitably they would all fall into the water, it was even a miracle Elizabeth and the boy were still alive. And so all he could do was watch as Elizabeth moved on the slippery wood, with every second getting closer to the lad; he stopped breathing when a higher wave rolled over Elizabeth, but she held tightly, his brave girl, a true pirate at heart and a sodding fool, no less.

Finally she got to the boy and started cutting the lines which held his feet. The seconds flew by, and she still worked patiently, and then the lad was free, able to carefully climb up the mast and after that, crawl back to the deck. Jack however did not spare him a second glance, focused directly on Elizabeth's movements. He saw she had problems with turning around and when she finally managed to do this, he exhaled, only then realizing he was holding his breath all along. She started moving in his direction, the dagger in her hand this time. Suddenly she looked upwards, right into his eyes, and a small, proud smile stretched her lips. Despite the danger, the bloody girl was actually enjoying herself. 'When she is safe and sound, I will …,' but the thought was not finished, for another wave, this time higher than the others, rolled over the broken mast, and when it disappeared, Elizabeth was no longer there. Jack jumped closer to the railing and saw her hanging just above the water, only one of her hands closed around a line. In no time he slipped his boots off and just like Elizabeth a few minutes before, it was now he who was straddling the pole. Slowly he began moving, until he found himself exactly above Elizabeth, he stretched his hand in her direction and caught her by her wrist. She looked up at him and he saw the raw panic in her eyes. _Not good._

"Elizabeth," he said calmly. "Don't be afraid. I'm going to get you out of this." His grip on her wrist tightened as he looked around considering their possible options. They were not far from the ship, but he could not think of any way of returning to the Empress. Suddenly one of the lines supporting the broken mast snapped and Jack and Elizabeth fell a few inches down. Jack realized they had only seconds before it would all go to hell, and he knew he had to act fast. He could do only one thing now, even if it meant that only one of them would safely return to the deck. He stared down, and his eyes searched Elizabeth's.

"Lizzie, you need to do exactly what I say, but you have to trust me," his expression was serious. "_Do_ you trust me?"

She locked her stare with his and nodded slowly. "Always," she said in a small but firm voice and he thanked God she was not panicking anymore.

"Good. Listen, there are loose lines and a rope-ladder hanging from the deck not far away from where we are. You cannot reach it now, but when I say, you will ease your grip on this line you're holding now and I will swing you so that you can reach. Don't worry. If I let you go, just focus on the lines and grab them so that you don't slide down the starboard, alright?"

She nodded again, and he smiled reassuringly, even though he knew that the moment he would start swaying her, the rest of the lines securing the mast would break and send him to the ocean. But he knew how to swim, and it would be hardly the first time he would find himself in such position. He could risk that, but he couldn't risk trying to save them both, not when so much was at stake. He just hoped that those of the men, who could leave the fight with the rigging to gather near the railing, had enough wits to help Elizabeth get back on board once she would catch the lines.

"Alright, Lizzie. Let go of the line." She did as he said and with a surprise he noticed she was much lighter than he expected. _She really should eat more_. Slowly he began swinging her and then he shouted at her to watch out as he let her fly toward the starboard. He observed as she caught one of the lines and begun climbing up; soon one of her men pulled her up and Jack could exhale with relief. But then he felt that the lines which for so long were holding the bloody mast finally gave up and let go. The last thing he saw before he disappeared underwater, trapped under the twisted lines and sails, was Elizabeth's face, contorted in the expression of pure shock and horror. And he could not help but to notice, that she looked much calmer when it was her whose life was endangered. After that, everything went black.

_xxx_

Elizabeth watched as Jack vanished under water. Some of the longer lines still held the mast afloat near the ship and for one hopeful moment she thought he would break the surface again, laughing at her stupidity with just another prank of Captain Sparrow's. But she knew he wasn't just trying to scare her, she saw this in his face as he was disappearing underwater. He simply gave up.

"No," Elizabeth shook her head. "No, I will not allow this to happen, Sparrow." She scanned the deck looking for something and there she found it, the line she had taken before to strap herself to the helm. She picked it up hastily and threw one end to the boy she rescued before. "Hold it, and whatever happens, don't let go." She strapped the other end around her waist and then moved toward another man; he moved backwards, afraid of her fury, but Elizabeth just caught the dagger he had fastened to his belt. After that, she went to the place where Jack had disappeared, and looked at the scarlet canvas floating on the water, hoping he had not gone down after the fall but was just tangled in the sails or ropes. She readied to jump when someone caught her by her arm - the young boy whose life she had saved tried to stop her, but she shook his hand of her. "I'm the Captain here," she barked at him. "I will not let him die as a hero, once was quite enough." And with that she leapt into the depths.

It took her a moment to adjust to the darkness, but then she saw the ruby sails only a few feet from her, so she dived deeper toward them, looking for any sign of a body. She was about to protrude from the water to take a breath, when with a corner of her eye she noticed a faint movement. She swam closer and realized it was Jack Sparrow, still fighting with the rigging with the rest of his strength. He could not resurface for air, not without freeing himself from the lines first, and so Elizabeth swam to take a breath and then dived close enough so that he could see her. When he did, frantically he started motioning for her to go away, but she did not listen, only swam closer and, covering his lips with hers, she blew her air into his mouth. He sucked it greedily and when she had no more air in her lungs she swam upwards to take another breath. When she returned, with the knife she took from her crewman she started cutting Jack's lines, just like she did with this young boy before. Finally she managed to set Jack free and together they broke the surface. Jack gasped for air and Elizabeth smiled at the sound - it meant he was safe. She turned around to face him.

"Jack, embrace me, I have a line around me and they will pull us up."

Jack obeyed, exhausted, and Elizabeth yelled to her crew. Soon they were both on board, unharmed, despite all odds. She got to her knees and moved to see if Jack really was fine. She leaned over him and realized he was whispering something she could not quite catch.

"What did you say, Jack?" she asked softly.

"I said," he repeated louder. "I could've bloody well saved myself, thank you very much."

Elizabeth looked at him startled, and then she laughed so loudly, Jack could not help but laugh himself. Suddenly Elizabeth looked around, noticing they were both the center of attention of almost the entire crew, who eyed them as if they had lost their minds.

"Back to work you lazy dogs!" she yelled at them. "Do you think that the storm took a break because we had some problems?! And cut off that bloody foremast before it takes us down!"

The crew scattered around, and Elizabeth turned to look at Jack again, only to realize he was propped on one elbow, observing her with a smirk stretching his lips.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing, love. Absolutely nothing at all."

_xxx_

_I had a strong desire to end this chapter with a cliffhanger, when Jack disappeared in the water but then I thought I would not do this to you, I like you all too much ;)_

_Anyway, I love reviews, just so you know._


	8. Emotionally Yours

**A/N:** The food poisoning is history. I feel better now, only preparing for my 10-days sailing trip. I'll be away from 09.02-09.11, so don't be alarmed if there is no update then.

Thank you for all of the amazing reviews. I enjoy every kind of feedback. Many of you were concerned about the certain event that happened in chapter 6. All I can say is that I want this story to be as canon as possible. I'm deeply sorry if some of you don't like where I'm going to with this fic, but I cannot change something that has already been set in stone in my mind. That said, I do hope you will continue reading it even despite some of my ideas.

**Disclaimer**: Now, for the eighth time - I do not own them. I wish I did, but I don't. I'm just a geek who likes to write stories which give no profit. Pathetic really, but what can you do?

**Rating**: Strong **M** for this chapter. So if you're too young, stay away! (What? I'm obliged to say this; it does not mean I actually mean it.)

**Chapter 7**

**Emotionally Yours**

_Come baby, find me, come baby, remind me of where I once begun.  
Come baby, show me, show me you know me, tell me you're the one.  
I could be learning, you could be yearning to see behind closed doors.  
But I will always be emotionally yours._

_Come baby, rock me, come baby, lock me into the shadows of your heart.  
Come baby, teach me, come baby, reach me, let the music start.  
I could be dreaming but I keep believing you're the one I'm livin' for.  
And I will always be emotionally yours._

_It's like my whole life never happened,  
When I see you, it's as if I never had a thought.  
I know this dream, it might be crazy,  
But it's the only one I've got._

_Come baby, shake me, come baby, take me, I would be satisfied.  
Come baby, hold me, come baby, help me, my arms are open wide.  
I could be unraveling wherever I'm traveling, even to foreign shores.  
But I will always be emotionally yours. _

"_Emotionally Yours" Bob Dylan_

_xxx_

How shall a man sail the dangerous and uncharted waters, with no stars to guide him and show him his heading? How can he know which path is right, when his compass is broken, the needle pointing persistently to his inevitable downfall? He has no answers, only questions which bring no peace to his weary soul, as he crosses the oceans, waiting. Because always he waits for something he cannot, or is afraid to name. And so he is lost.

He thought, once, that at last he had found his star, a direction to lead him out of the mist. But he was mistaken, and the price he paid for this mistake was high, the wandering sailor was lost among the living.

And yet the waves whisper he has returned to the world, his heart heavy with melancholy and eyes dark with unnameable shadows, still waiting and searching, balancing on the edge of life and death but with no star glowing constantly at the horizon to show him his way this time. And in his hour of despair, the sea joins him as he weeps.

_xxx_

"That was a bloody stupid mistake, if you asked me," a voice resounded in the darkest corner of the hold, coming from somewhere behind the numerous barrels. "Bloody stupid mistake made by a bloody stupid fool, namely - Jack Sparrow. In fact, it would probably win you the trophy of William Turner in the category of most dim-witted acts in the history of mankind." There was a sound as if someone was downing a bottle of drink. "But why did you do this? Have you finally lost your mind?" A sigh, followed by another gulp. "First, become immortal. After that, you can play a hero, if that is what you so pathetically desire, but not the other way round. Definitely not the other way."

Jack was not hiding. He was definitely not hiding, just checking the supplies. Right now he was simply going through the rum. After the storm had passed, he had come back to the first mate's cabin but the much needed sleep had not come, as the unwanted thoughts had kept him awake. Hundreds of times, the events of the previous night appeared before his eyes - each time showing him, with every painful detail, how close he was to losing his life, and to losing _her _as well. Maybe, once, he would have named it an occupational hazard, but never before had he felt like this, like maybe it was not worth it after all.

And so now, bottle after bottle, he was trying to soothe his nerves and find logic in his late night ponderings, but to no avail - yet. He reached to his belt and unfastened the compass. He flipped the lid open - revealing the needle which moved swiftly, settling on one point. There was no hesitation, no uncertainty, indecision or wavering, and no denial . . . this time. "Bloody, buggering hell," he cursed under his breath, but the compass did not change its mind and Jack closed it furiously.

"It was supposed to end," he muttered, taking a swig from the bottle.

_Why exactly?_

"She killed me."

_She came back for you. And then, yesterday, she saved your life._

"She felt guilty."

_Same difference. You're still alive._

"How can you - no, how can _I_ be trying to justify her actions? Why do I even _want_ to forgive her?!"

_You have already forgiven her. You know you have , you old fool. And you do exactly know why . . . _

"Do not."

_Of course you do . . ._

Jack took another mouthful of rum. "Even if I - _do_, whatever it is you're insinuating, it does not change anything. There is still a matter of certain William Turner. God knows why, but she loves _him_. Him, not me, never me. No, nein, non."

_So she is not yours. When has it ever stopped you from taking what you wanted?_

"No… no, this would be wrong, she would never forgive herself, and she would never forgive me for that matter."

_Then leave, Jack. Arrange for yourself another passage from Tortuga, you don't have to go with her. Save yourself before it's too late._

A sad smile appeared on Jack's lips. "What makes you think it already isn't too late?"

He stared into the blackness of the hold, stretching his limbs on the dirty, dusty floor. So many years he had lived in solitude, and it really had been enough. A bottle of rum, a wench by his side and a vessel to sail the seas was all he wanted from life. But it changed. It changed the very moment he had laid his eyes on the beautiful, deceitful Governor's daughter. And he could not forget, he could not leave, because he knew their paths would always cross leading him back to her. He was drawn to her, like a moth is drawn to the flame, and every time she praised him with her warmth, he knew he was just one step from his ruin, but there was no other way for him, he could not leave anymore.

He put his head into his hands closing his eyes, and suddenly he felt raindrops falling on his face and heard the cries of men fighting around him. He saw Elizabeth, weeping over dying Will, and then his own hand, helping the boy pierce the heart of Davy Jones. How could he watch her suffer so? He had no choice. It was the least he could do for taking away her old life from her, taking away her family and friends, because he had stolen it all. Pirate. Beckett had always wanted only him, it had never been about them, it had not been their war, but in the end she had lost more than most. It had not been her war.

Jack almost cried out loud, as a jolt of pain ran through his skull. Oh this time it would be more entertaining than ever. Opium, he needed it, if not for the physical suffering then to just simply forget for a minute, a few seconds really. Slowly, he rose to his feet and moved toward the stairs, when a shadow blocked the passage. _Of course, your timing is, like always, impeccable, love._

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Miss … I'm sorry, _Captain _Swann?"

Elizabeth moved a few steps and sat on the nearest barrel.

"In about two hours we will be in Tortuga."

"You came here to inform me about our progress?" he asked in disbelief.

"No, I- ah, actually I came to apologize, for what I said yesterday. It was uncalled for and downright rude, I'm sorry," she blurted out the sentence, as if she had it memorized by heart.

"Do not fret yourself over it, love. It's always good to say the truth. Otherwise, it will not let your sleep, now if you'll excuse me-_"_

"Jack," she caught him by his hand as he tried to walk past her. "I did not mean it. I really didn't. It's just... I miss my father; I miss him so much . . ." her voice cracked and Jack winced, not really knowing if it was his head that was aching, or heart. He reached in her direction and for a second he thought he would touch her, hold her, cast the shadows away from her face, but then he realized he was not strong enough anymore to comfort her, maybe he never was, and his hand froze in midair and then lowered back to his side. He watched the tears mark little paths on her cheeks and he knew he could not add more regrets to her already miserable life, because she did not deserve it. He paled as another wave of pain went through his head and with all his might he restrained himself from rubbing his temples, realizing that Elizabeth for the last few seconds had been observing him suspiciously, her thoughts averted from sad memories.

"Jack," she said quietly, the recent tears still audible in her voice, "Are you alright? You look ill."

"I'm bloody fine," he answered, fighting to keep his voice steady, not letting the nausea take over him. "But I really have to go now . . . Places to visit, people to meet. You understand "

Jack moved to leave, but Elizabeth placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him, and he almost screamed when the world before his eyes shattered to pieces in a one flash of white. He cast her hand away in a violent movement, barely registering she flinched in pain as her hand flung down to her side, her big eyes staring at him in concern and hurt. But he could not stay there to apologize. He rushed off to his cabin, almost tripping over the cargo in the hold, not able to see clearly through the mist of agony with only one thought on his mind - to ease this horrible pain.

_xxx_

A glass of opium infusion took the edge off his suffering, but did not bring the sleep he yearned for so much. Instead, the vivid visions he was experiencing all day only increased their frequency and he wondered if there would ever come a time when he would just be able to rest, not haunted by the memories of the things that had been.

He lay on his bed, when the tumult on the deck and the cries of the men informed him they had reached their destination. A flicker of hope lit in his heart. The Pearl. Maybe she was there, maybe he would just take her and be free of everything. Could he not run from his ghosts? He rose from his bed and took off to the deck, but when he got there it took him only one stare to know the truth. The Pearl was not in the port. Jack's heart sank. He turned around, not wanting to look at the nearing docks anymore, and then his eyes met Elizabeth's. She was at the stern, but he could tell she was looking directly at him, with sadness in her eyes, and her pity was too much for him to bear.

He was the first to leave the Empress when it finally moored in the harbor, and he did not look back to see the concerned look Elizabeth cast him as she was shouting orders at her crew. He crossed the busy streets of Tortuga, occasionally acknowledging with a nod people he knew. The headache he had felt before had ceased completely and now only the heaviness of his limbs and the slight stupor of his mind were reminding him of the narcotic.

He headed his steps toward his favorite tavern, the "Faithful Bride" and soon he was inside, one of the few occupants who decided to spend their time there at this early hour; it would be a few hours before the place would start crowding, even though it was almost nightfall, but until then he would have the peace and quiet he needed.

He took the table in the corner of the inn, far from the prying eyes of anyone who would want to become his acquaintance tonight, all of the girls here knew that whoever took this seat, wanted to be left alone and undisturbed. This was a place a man took if he wanted to drink himself into oblivion. A few minutes passed and a black-haired woman appeared by his chair to take his order.

"Whisky," he said and she raised her brow questioningly.

"Excuse me, but are you not Captain Jack Sparrow?"

"Not tonight, lass," he smiled darkly. "Tonight I'm a man who is thirsty like hell. And I want whisky."

Without any further comments or questions, the girl went away and after a moment returned with a bottle and a cup. She poured him a good measure of the golden liquor and was about to leave when he caught her by her wrist. "Leave the bottle, darling."

The woman looked at him in a strange way but said nothing and left him with his whisky and his thoughts. A very poetic combination, as it were.

"Drink up me hearties," he said before emptying the whole cup in one swift movement of his well-trained wrist. The drink burned his throat but Jack welcomed the fire in his mouth with pleasure. God, two more weeks, maybe three and he would be immortal, finally free from the bloody Elizabeth Swann. But did he really want to be free? Could he?

He was downing another cup when he realized that someone was observing him. He looked up and his eyes met the eyes of one of the people he really did not want to meet this night.

"Giselle!" he greeted the woman with fake enthusiasm in his voice, "Forgive me for not inviting you to join me, but I'm in the middle of something, as you can see. You do understand, I hope."

"Oh, I do understand … you're in the middle of getting impossibly drunk. But I will not leave you unless you tell me why you are sitting here with nothing but a bottle of whisky. Is the rum gone?"

"I'm really not in the mood, Giselle."

"The Jack Sparrow I know is always in the mood," she tilted her head to the side and smiled teasingly.

"Maybe the Jack Sparrow you know has changed," he said and Giselle's face fell as she looked at him closely, but he continued. "And what have you done with our dear Scarlett? I don't think I've seen her tonight. Usually she does not let you talk to me all by your onesies for such a long time."

"Scarlett, she's... she's dead," Giselle answered, the pain clearly audible in her voice.

"What? How?" for the first time since he had entered the tavern, he seemed distracted from his own thoughts and nightmares. In fact, he seemed shocked and concerned.

"It happened a few weeks ago. She needed money so she took a man she did not know. And … he slaughtered her, like she was an animal " her voice broke.

"I'm sorry Giselle, I really am… if I could help…"

"There's nothing you can do. They caught that beast; he was hung."

"But are _you_ alright?"

"Jack," she placed her hand upon his. "I'll be fine, but you … I've known you for years and I've never seen you like this. I don't know what ails you, but if I cannot help you otherwise, let me at least take your mind off the things that have left you so restless." As she spoke, her other hand caressed his thigh and Jack felt there was a part of him that needed her touch, her closeness. And so he nodded, closing his fingers around the bottle, letting Giselle take him from his table and upstairs, to the room in which he had once been a frequent visitor, hoping it would give him a moment of peace.

_xxx_

The sun was almost setting when Elizabeth finally finished her duties at the Empress and could go to enjoy the vibrant evening in Tortuga. She had been here before, once, but could hardly remember a thing; she had been so worried about Will and her father that the details of the town were blurred before her eyes now, and she felt as if she had never seen this place in her life. Once she might have found it filthy but after all the events of the past year she could only feel joy from seeing so many people around her, knowing it was also by her doing that they could be free now.

She remembered the way to the "Faithful Bride" and decided to go there, hoping she would find Jack and force him to talk to her. He was so difficult to understand sometimes, like this morning, in the hold, when he had almost hit her. Had she hurt him so much with her words that he could not forgive her? Had she destroyed the delicate bond that had been building between them ever since they had met for the first time, and which she then had broken so brutally by leaving him for Kraken to feast upon? She was now desperately trying to restore whatever had been lost, put together the pieces of their friendship, but it seemed he did not want it and maybe she ought to respect his wishes.

Sometimes, when he looked at her, she thought she saw…, but she was just fooling herself. There maybe had been a time when he could look at her without disgust, and even though he did not seek revenge for her betrayal, even though he helped her whenever she needed his help, there in the hold his eyes had told her the truth, they had spoken of the depths of his indifference, no, worse - of his detestation.

But it was so hard, so bloody hard . She needed his presence although she knew she shouldn't. It was dangerous, and she could not trust herself. She had already proved how fickle her feelings could be, when she had been sailing with Jack not more than a year before. How fast had Will's image disappeared from before her eyes, when Jack had looked at her with those inscrutable eyes of his? And now… when she felt so lonely, so horribly lonely and hurting... She had loved Will almost all her life and yet would she have agreed to marry him, had they not been in the midst of the battle?

_Of course, I loved him... I do love him... still._

_But do I love him enough? Enough to stay true?_

And Elizabeth could not find answers to those questions as she crossed the Tortuga's streets, in her search for Captain Jack Sparrow. She finally found the tavern, and with a sudden hopeful feeling she went inside, letting her eyes adjust to the dimness in the not yet fully lit room. She scanned it, hoping she was not mistaken and Jack really was there, when her eyes noticed a movement in the other part of the inn and she recognized the man sitting behind the table, talking to one of the women working there. She began moving, but something about the way they were conversing made her stop and not let her presence be known. She stood behind a pillar, as the two continued their talk and then she watched as the woman touched Jack, and how she led him to the rooms upstairs.

Elizabeth went outside, her heart beating frantically, not willing to stay in the "Faithful Bride" a second longer. As she walked back to the docks, tears streamed down her face, although she could not tell why she was crying over something she had no rights to, over losing someone who had never belonged to her.

_xxx_

Jack closed the door behind him and Giselle went to light the candles in the room. He approached the window and stared through it into the night. Below, on the street, the town was coming to life, and with every passing second more and more people crowded the alleys.

As he stood there, Giselle came to him from behind and took his coat off, putting it gently on a chair. She then placed her hands upon his strained shoulders, beginning to massage him. With every move of her skilled fingers tension left him and he wondered where she had learnt those tricks that melted every man she placed her hands upon. Soon her fingers wandered down his sides and he sighed when the gentle palms slipped underneath his shirt, caressing the skin upon his chest, exploring every inch of his muscular body.

And then her lips touched his neck, and he hissed through his teeth when she bit his ear, sending shivers down his spine. She was rewarded with another moan, when her fingertips stroked his already hardening nipples. Still standing behind him, Giselle let her hands slide down the naked skin, right to the hard bulge forming at the front his breeches. Jack closed his eyes, as she rubbed him through the thin material and instantly a familiar face appeared before his mind's eye. Oh Christ, if he could not have her, if she did not want him, then at least he would have this, even if it was as far from reality as it could possibly be. If only she would let him... Elizabeth, weeping from pleasure underneath his tongue, wriggling madly when he would touch her, stroke in all the right places, driving her insane. She was there, in his head, every second of every hour, the sweetest torture. _Elizabeth, Lizzie._ Oh Christ.

His head arched backwards as Giselle's hand slipped under the band of his breaches. Her clever fingers moved up and down his length until he was so hard he thought one more touch would send him over the edge, but then she stopped her movements and moved her attention back to his neck and chest, not letting him finish yet, wanting to prolong his pleasure. She walked around him, standing between him and the window. Her tongue touched the brown skin on his torso, circling the nipples, and then traveled downwards, tracing wet paths on his body. She knelt before Jack and he sighed when she finally freed his throbbing cock from the breeches, pulling them down to his ankles. She ran her fingers up his inner tights, ever so gently, almost as if she was teasing him with delicate feathers, but did not let her palms even brush his manhood.

At last she neared her head to his pulsating shaft and blew hot air at the velvety tip. He cried, when her warm, wet lips finally closed around him and her head began moving rhythmically. His breathing changed into frantic panting, as she continued her ministrations upon him, her hands squeezing his buttocks gently. She massaged his cock with her restless tongue until he could take it no more. The orgasm was sudden and powerful. Jack held to the wall for support, afraid his legs would give in, had he let go. He breathed hard when Giselle cleaned him with her tongue. She then rose from her knees, and took off her dress, letting it fall to the ground, and naked moved toward the bed.

"Come Jack," she said and he obliged, lying down by her in the surprisingly clean sheets. Her hand begun wandering across his chest and lower, but he caught her palm and brought it to his lips to kiss the tips of her fingers. She understood.

"Who's Elizabeth?" she asked after a moment and Jack stirred.

"What?" he looked at her with danger in his eyes.

"Jack, usually I do not care what men call me when I am with them, but you are my friend and I _do_ care… for you. It was her name that was on your lips every time I touched you. I know it is none of my business, but- "

"You're right, it is none of your business," he cut her off but she continued.

"Is she the reason for the shadows underneath your eyes?"

"Giselle, when I pay for the use of your mouth, I hardly mean talking," he sneered.

"Oh Jack," she smiled. "If I thought you were serious, I would slap you. But you don't mean it." Her hand flew to his cheek, caressing him fondly.

His eyes softened, but he rose from the bed, and begun putting his clothes on.

Giselle sat up on the bed, not bothering covering her milky-white breasts. "I'm sorry; I should not have bothered you with my questions. Please stay…"

"Thank you, darling, but I don't think it's going to do me any good now. I have to go," he fastened his belts around his slim waist. "How much do I owe you?"

"Let's call it an old friend's favor."

Jack smiled at her but took out a bag of coins nevertheless, and placed it on the table, next to the candle. "I don't know for how long it's going to last, but it should be enough for at least a few weeks, maybe months. In return… just… promise me to be careful for whom you work, that's all."

Giselle's eyes watered as she looked at this beautiful man, standing there so flawed and yet so worthy of love and warmth, and she did not understand how it could be that from all of the women in the world who would have given him their hearts so gladly, he had to chose one who apparently did not want to belong to him.

"You have a big heart, Jack," she said at last.

"And it seems to be my curse, love," he grinned, although there was only sadness in his eyes, and then he went out of her room, and out of the tavern, into the darkness of Tortuga's night, and his feet took him to the docks.

_xxx_

Let me know what you think!


End file.
